The walk of life
Through the usual confluence of the planets aligning against me, I found myself without wheels this past week.
It's happened before.
When I was growing up, we did not have a car. (Pause here allow all the younger readers to get over it.)
I was the first in my family to get one, when I was 15. It cost a hundred bucks and it was a yellow Corvair convertible . The brakes didn't quite work.
But we did find out it floats, as legend had it, by driving it into the lake along the beach one night when it seemed like the right thing to do.
And the lack of brakes forced me to learn how to downshift. No trouble for the lack of a license plate was simply the angels protecting fools such as I.
As soon as I was old enough to get a license, I got one. Then a license plate and car insurance.
I have seldom had a new car to drive; new to me has always been good enough.
Because I choose to live in a small town which is a long-distance phone call from everywhere, it also means work is a drive away .
That's the current dilemma. As fate would have it, a friend called to see what was going on in my world and I told him of my wheel less life. He mentioned his son was now at Ball State, the kid's old pickup truck was simply rusting in the driveway and why didn't I borrow it. So
Wesley (the latest partner in Megs' dance of life) and the teen queen drove to the big city to get it on Sunday. It has no rear-view mirrors and you can only put five bucks worth of gas in it because of a leak, but it runs.
Between the lack of wheels and the arrival of rusty ones, I had many adventures in walking.
The best one was when me and Mik-Mak took a stroll to the grocery on Saturday night, about a three-mile round trip. She was more amazed at the distance than was I, but she liked stopping at the Shell station for gummy bears about halfway home.
When you walk through your hometown, you see an amazing variety of things you miss as you zoom past in the daily fast lane of life.
We saw many more stained glass windows on the older houses than I would have imagined. We peered down scary alleys. We saw policemen on patrol (and they saw us).
We saw a lot of real life: Bicycles strewn in driveways; recycling bins turned upside-down against the rain; cable dishes and other receivers attached at odd angles to many houses.
We heard a lot of life pouring out of windows, screened and otherwise: Salsa music; a party going on; the chatter of a kitchen crew at the Chinese restaurant; football games galore.
It was a nice stroll for a dad and his little one.
Hand-in-hand, we discussed the world, sticks, dogs and cats, funny sounds in the trees and even how much our feet hurt.
We saw the moon hiding in the clouds, remnants of many gardens and heard the rusting wind reminding us summer's end is here and fall will soon take over.
A walk can be a simple thing. A walk can be forced upon you. But a walk with your child is also a memory to be cherished.
I was glad, for that night, I didn't have a car.
|
|
| Community Calendar |
|
No events listed.
|
|
Interactive Calendar
|
