Yesterday, I was scheduled to travel to Enumclaw, Washington for work, to train someone else to do what I do. "But," I want to say to them, "I don't really do anything." But they think I do and keep giving me paychecks, which I cash. I am always a bit anxious that someone will come up behind me and expose me for the fraud I am certain I am. But so far, I'm pulling it off.
When I pulled into the driveway of the woman I was to drive with, she said, "My husband decided he's going to drive." Then appeared JD in the doorway, a sleepy-eyed 30 year old boy with curly black hair hanging in his eyes. "Okay." What choice did I have? And believe me... I have little fear riding with others. I get into a car and know beyond any doubt that I am at the mercy of the driver. My son's father cured me of both hope and any sense of control whatsoever. I learned back then that complaining or tensing up could bring far worse results. Now, it is instinctual to just shut up and get in the car. Live or die.
We jumped in the jeep, slammed the doors shut, and drove to the gas station for oil. I knew it was going to be an interesting trip. I was at the mercy of children. Old ones, but children.
I haven't had car trouble for years. Well, there was the clutch thing back in 03, but that was different. I have AAA for chrissake. I am OLD. (Older today) and I drive a new vehicle. The kids apologized for their vehicle, and I said I was no stranger to crappy cars. I told them about the '65 Dodge Polara with the plywood back seat that I had to open the hood and smack the started with a 2x4 every time I started it. I drove that thing for years and years. Then there was the 72 white station wagon that used a 2.5 gallon jug of oil each week and streamed blue smoke any time I let off the gas. People would pass me, waving and pointing behind me as though a slight mechanical problem was just developing. I'd just wave back. Or the Dodge Dart with the pushbutton transmission that my 2 year old son learned to use while his father was in the Jacksonville Tavern and the town cop pulled from the car just as it rolled into log-truck traffic. Ah, memories. I got a million of 'em.
So, off we went. Enumclaw, Buckley, Black Diamond. All little towns East of Olympia. We made it there and back.
We drove past the Gospodor Monument Park, and I was grateful to find this site with a fairly uninteresting story about the builder. It is a curiosity.
Its my birthday today so I'm going to buy a scooter and skip out of work early. In reverse order, and have dinner at Salvador Molly's. My favorite. Pirate food.
6 comments:
I think I had all those cars right after you had them!
Happy birthday!
(Or, I guess, you had them right after I had them. Sorry.)
Yes! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! I do hope the little package and card arrive today, but if not, they are somewhere between here and there. Nothing big, just something to let you know I remember who you are, and celebrate your birth, today! Hope it's very fine. Yes, I actually DID inherit one of those cars. It gave me a reason to return to Oregon. Helped me to move on to the next chapter. Thank you for that. And the ensueing (sp) month and a half of housing for me and mine. Blessings to you and glad you survived the kids. (not mine, the old kids in whose hands your life was in there, yesterday, shortly).
thanks, both of you. And l, I'll always be glad you found your way home.
Wow! Happy birthday. I have been wanting to buy a scooter for years. I even picked out an orange Stella scooter last year but chickened out.
My mama is in town tomorrow. Would you like to have coffee on Sunday with us?
asia: absolutely. 10ish, my corner of the universe?
yes! we will be there.
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