The Good Old Days All Over Again

Today is not one of them, and neither were the last several. Just a couple weeks ago though there were several. It was like the 70s all over again for me. And the 80s for that matter.

The Good Old Days.

If you are wondering what I could possibly mean, what with gas prices breaking all kinds of records, the economy in the toilet and - put your favorite horror here - What could possibly remind me of the good old days? I've lost my mind? I hope not. (And you may be too young to remember the gas shortages and economic woes of the 80s. But I digress.)

In a very direct cause and effect way, those very high gas prices led me to rediscover some simple pleasures that I had long forgotten about.

Leisurely drives. With the windows down.

Yup, much of my memories center around the automobile. My dad was a mechanic for 40 years, and so father son time often involved cars. And in the warmer months, family time meant going for a drive - to cool off.

In the days before air conditioning was common place in cars and homes, one way to cool off was to go for a drive in the country in the evening. We did this often. I remember the sounds of the crickets and bull frogs along with the rush of the wind as we passed along fields, ponds, and farmsteads.

Later, when I was old enough to drive and have my own car, I remember hearing what was on other peoples radios at stop lights and sometimes their conversations. There were birds singing in the trees overhead and dogs barking at you from the curb. Occasionally a friend would shout you a greeting from the next lane or the sidewalk.

Traffic noises often dominated my commutes to school but it meant hearing the sweet unfiltered sounds of all manner of powerful engines. In those days you were cool if you could identify a car by it's revving engine. I still remember the sweet sound of the 12 cylinders of the Lamborghini Countach that once pulled up next to me at a stoplight. . .

Then there were the close calls. Where today you get a muffled horn blast, back then you could shake your fist, flip "the bird" an cuss out the driver who just made a boneheaded maneuver. All out your open window right into the other drivers equally open windows. It was expected.

I miss that.

Oh, and did I mention the smells? I think the smells are what really made the strongest memories for me. Of course there's the not so nice odors, like burning oil, hot exhaust, and the occasional skunk that didn't quite make it across the road last night. Oh, and Pig farms! But what I really enjoyed were the scents of Spring: Freshly mowed grass, trees bursting in flower, the coming rain.

So this spring, when it was pleasantly cool and dry on the way to work and back, I had the windows open most of the time.* Unexpectedly I found myself recalling all kinds of things I had forgotten I'd forgotten. If you know what I mean.

As kind of a side effect, I also started to drive without haste; coasting down hills and toward stopped traffic rather than barreling full tilt only to stop hard at the back end of a line of traffic. It was quieter. It was relaxing. It relieved some stress. It allowed me to more fully enjoy the simple pleasures that once were so common, but now were as if never before experienced.

Oh! It also gave me something to share with you!

*(Never on the freeway, the increased drag at those speeds hurts mileage more than running the AC's compressor. Besides, it's just too damn noisy . . . And I got 405+ miles out of a tank of gas - about 26MPG from a normal six cylinder car! Sweet!)

A Little Poetic Justice

I drive my daughter to school every morning, and the route I take happens to pass through a handful of school zones. I have always been very conscious of my speed while driving through school zones, but of late I have been particularly careful - Check out this accident that happened in front of another school in the Columbus area just the other day and I think you'll understand why. . .

Today was shaping up to be just another one of those commutes; I dutifully slowed to 20MPH through every speed zone and got my daughter to school with a clean conscious and time to spare. Things began to veer from the routine though as I started on my way out of the school parking lot after dropping her off . As I approached the end of the driveway I got there just in time for a parade of vehicles going by on the main road. They were traveling at what I guess to be 25 to 30 MPH. Obviously over the 20MPH limit of a school zone, but much to my consternation, about par for the course on this street. A large enough opening soon approached and I eased on to the street and accelerated to 20. . .

Apparently the woman driving the Lexus ESS YUU VEE I had just pulled in front of was displeased at my rate of travel as she devoured the distance between our vehicles in a hurry and stayed planted on my bumper. While the distance from the school driveway exit and the end of the school zone is only about a block and a half, I decided I should explain things a bit by holding up two fingers signifying "2" followed by the OK sign signifying "0" - The speed limit and the speed at which I was traveling. I did that a couple times, and then sped up as we left the school zone. I thought what would be enough to remind the tailgater behind me that the slower speed is expected between the signs with the flashing yellow lights, and that would be it.

I was wrong.

After the school zone was passed, I caught up to the parade of cars. Apparently someone had turned left and delayed things enough that me and the tailgater soon found ourselves bringing up the rear of a fairly long line of vehicles. So now we are going along with traffic, the Lexus grill is still looming large in my mirror, and we are approaching an intersection where the light is turning red.

Much to my relief, I want to go straight at the light, and she wants to go right. The right lane is a right turn only lane, and is backed up farther than the lane I'm in.

But folks are making rights on red and so she eventually pulls up next to me. I'm watching to see if she makes any indication that she had seen my "2" and "0" signs earlier, but fully expected nothing. By her reaction of putting both hands in her window showing two fingers on one and five on the other I would guess that she had seen my gestures. Unfortunately the fact that we were in the school zone was completely lost on her.

Anyway, now comes the best part, the justice I mentioned in the title.

As I was saying, she was in a right turn only lane - The traffic in front of her was moving fairly steadily as no oncoming traffic prevented safe turns on red. She rolled by, both hands and whole face in her window as I watched, chuckling at the absurdity of her seeming indignation. In disgust she whipped her hands back to the steering wheel, disappeared from my sight behind the door frame of the Lexus, and hit the gas. . . Right into the rear bumper of an old lady in her Mercedes waiting to turn right!

Oh. My. GOODNESS!!! I don't think I have ever seen something so exquisite! The light turned green and I started to head on my way. As I wanted to be sure the bump was minor, (it was) I went by slowly to check things out. My glance was rewarded with this statement, mouthed very obviously by the now very pissed off Lexus driver, "Thank you very much!" "See what you did!" I couldn't help but laugh. I waved cheerfully as I resumed my commute. . .

I think she could benefit from what John G Miller has to say. Then again, maybe I should revisit his book myself.

My commute extends

Ugh. Boy was I wrong.

As I ranted about before in this space, Our daughter doesn't have a bus to ride to school this year. We decided that it would probably be best for me to drive her to school every day as my schedule is somewhat lest restrictive than my wifes.

What was I thinking!

It was with great confidence that I volunteered for this duty. I really didn't mind that it would add about 30 minutes to my commute, especially since fully half of it would be in an Anti-Rush direction. In fact, the route that I take from our place to her school is along a rather pleasant two lane riverside road most of the way. Despite it mostly being one lane in each direction, it has a very predictable traffic load, and even on snowy days, moves very well. The scenery along this route is also nice. Fall foliage, snowy boughs, frozen river sunrises . . . So that coupled with my love of driving seemed like a no brainer.

Right - I didn't use my brain at all. . .

Day one of our commute I thought I would take the expressway - 'cause being the first day, I really wanted to get D3 to school right when her before-care opened, and we were running a bit late. Mind you, a few years ago my office used to be in the city and this expressway route was my daily norm - so no big deal.

Yeah! Right! When did I start getting so tense when driving in rush hour freeway traffic? Where does that a-hole think he's going! HEY! Do you see me here?!!! SHI--!!

I decided that I would stick with the scenic route from day two on. So the next day, I happily headed for the road along the river. Traffic was very light and we were making good time.

I must have really blocked out some things from a few years ago. (I drove both kids to school for several years before we found out that there was a bus.) I forgot about this intersection up here where a second lane exists long enough for folks to race you for the single lane on the other side . . . Ditchers! Why can't they just wait in line like us normal folks?

We got to school with plenty of time to spare. So I headed back from whence I came and then towards the office.

Dang, that sun is right in my face! And where did all these crappy drivers come from? Is the freeway backed up or closed or something I missed hearing about? Why are they messing up my commute here on the scenic route?

My clock tells me I'm making excellent time . . .

What the . . .! Does red no longer mean stop? Holy mother of god! - Is my side of the double yellow line really that much more nicer than theirs?!!

Boy was I wrong . . .

Another Facet of Fatherhood

Yesterday I found myself first in line in a left turn lane from a residential street onto a very busy main thoroughfare. Despite the busy cross street, there is no left turn light so one must await oncoming traffic when the light turns green.

Fortunately there are crosswalks and functioning walk lights at this particular intersection, for on the corner was a preteen girl very impatiently waiting to cross that very busy street. (She repeatedly leaned hard on the button making it obvious she was not wanting to wait.)

She would be crossing in the same direction I was facing, and so I would cross her path as I turned left. I found myself worrying for this child's safety. Would any traffic coming at me from the opposite side and turning right see her? I was happy when, probably for the first time that I've observed, no cars came up on the straight/right lane towards us. When the light changed, I pulled out into the intersection and turned ever so slightly left so as to see around the opposite left turning traffic. And as I expected, the child hesitated, started across the street, hesitated again, then broke out in a dead run for the far side.

I knew that It was a good thing I was there, for I was sure that the dude in the BMW behind me yapping on the phone probably would have zipped on around the corner - he very nearly ran me over when I stopped - and could have run the girl over. At the very least scared her as he crossed right in front of her. . .

Thing is, before I had my own kids, I probably would have zipped around the corner myself. Being a father has really opened my eyes to the phrase "It takes a village. . ."

The Middle Diamond

Well, I was thinking about the family I knew as a teenager the other day. You know what I mean - folks your parents helped you keep in touch with - and unless you are very fortunate, you no longer keep in touch with as much.

Anyway, I remembered a story that made such an indelible impression on my young self that I still get goosebumps when I tell it.

So get ready . . .

One of my favorite cousins worked for the Army for years. Part of that time she was assigned to a job at the Pentagon (well before 9/11, so that's not where this is going). Unlike when she was stationed overseas, she would sometimes travel home for holidays and such.

This one particular time she was coming home for the Christmas holidays. As was her custom, before she set out, she prayed for angels to guard each wheel of her car to help her safely reach home. This trip was during a particularly cold Christmas and as such the highways had taken a beating, with potholes dotting the roads and bridges. It was very late at night and she was growing sleepy. As she approached a bridge up ahead she noticed an unusually large number of cars and trucks pulled off to the side of the road. She realized too late that all the sidelined cars were inflicted with multiple flat tires. Too late I say, because before her sleepy mind could react, her car slammed into a series of very large and deep potholes on the bridge. (Large enough that she reported that she could see through to the ground below.)

Jolted fully awake she strained to listen for the telltale sounds of a flattening tire. But no such sounds came. Also absent were any vibrations or other telltale signs . . . so she continued on home.

The next day my mother took my brother and I to my aunt's to visit my cousin from the east cost. As we parked and walked up the driveway, It was obvious that my cousin's car had experienced some seriously large potholes. Both tires on the driver's side were flat, both wheels dented so heavily that they could no longer maintain a seal around the tire bead.

Yet she had driven almost two hours after the holey bridge had done it's damage.

I believe in angels. . . .

Unease Returns

Well, our son has been a fully licensed driver for a couple weeks or so now and has had several opportunities to drive on his own. He's been humoring us and calls when he arrives at his destination, and if he is going to be late returning home. He's even agreed to shuttle his sister when we've asked. And get this - he's volunteered to drive her even when it meant an inconvenience to himself!

Now, let me explain "inconvenience" because it still blows my mind that he volunteered to do this: He said he would drive his sister to the YMCA to catch the 8:00 AM bus to her day camp.

OK. If you have teenagers, you may already be thinking that I've lost my mind - After all, It's summer: No sixteen year old boy with no school, no scheduled activities, no job (yet), and a penchant for staying up late playing video games could be pried out of their beds before noon. To drive his little sister. Not our boy. He wanted to do it. And because it meant a big inconvenience to either of us, we were happy to let him do it. He did a good job and got her there in plenty of time too. He even told us that evening that he was glad that he had gotten up early, because he was able to enjoy more of the day watching TV and playing games.

Pretty wise for a sixteen year old, I'm thinking. . .

Pretty wise, and . . . pretty eager too, if I think about it. Uh, wait a second! It would seem that our son is starting to enjoy this driving thing a bit more. He says it was cool because he had more waking hours in the day. But maybe the freedom from being tied down by the schedule of two very busy parents is starting to go to his head. Maybe he's out there right now blasting down the road on some wild adventure! Look Out! Be Carefull! Slow DOWN! AHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Ahem. Mmm. Sorry. It's the Unease coming back.

Such is the lot of a father of a new driver . . .

How's that again?

My wife and I were working the CTS at a swim meet recently, and had an interesting conversation with one of the other parents about our son. She is the mother of one of the female swimmers on our children's team. She was going on and on about how polite our boy was:

I saw your son at practice the other day. I asked him were his parents were because I needed to talk to one of you. He said that neither of you were here, and that he drove himself and his sister to practice.

Now at this point, she paused and commented how surprised she was that we trusted him to not only drive himself to practice, but to drive his sister too - Since he had just received his license.

We explained that we had good reason to be comfortable with him driving his sister because he's been driving at least one of us around for more than nine months, and we were very comfortable with his skill at this point. (See The Absence of Unease)

She must have been satisfied with our explanation, as she continued:

Well, anyway he was so polite about getting his license. I've seen so many new drivers waving their new licenses under their younger friend's noses, and bragging about being able to go where they want to by themselves, but not your son. He really didn't treat it like it was a big deal.

Oh, and he's so good looking too! I keep telling my daughter that she should get to know him, cause he's so nice and so handsome!

Well, I had to make a conscious effort not to burst out laughing in this poor woman's face! I was certain she was talking about someone else's kid at this point. But I soon realized that there probably was some truth in what she said. Hadn't we spent 16 whole years of our lives trying to teach him to be polite, to not brag, to be humble? So why wouldn't I believe that time had been well spent?

Why? Well, I'll tell you. He lives with us. . .

The Absence of Unease

The other day I was riding "shotgun" with my 16 year old son. He wanted to work out at the Y and because he hasn't quite gotten his driver's license yet, he must have a licensed driver in the passenger's seat.

Now he's been driving since he was able get his temps at 15 and a half and I must say he is really quite a good driver by now - I know this, or actually it would be better to say I met the abrupt reality of this, because of what I did on that ride:

I watched the scenery go by.

That's it - watched the world go by out the side window. So why does that matter? Think about any time you've ridden with someone who really was not a good driver, like maybe riding shotgun with your own novice driver, or possibly a taxi driver who drives like they just came to this country from somewhere where they could never drive very fast because the only roads are choked with cattle, people and potholes. Probably all three. Anyway, think about the unbridled terror you felt when this driver you've trusted with your life seems hell bent on ending it prematurely for you! And if you've never felt this before, then you've never taught anyone to drive, have had extraordinarily good luck with taxis, or you're the worst driver you've ever met and don't know it and so don't know to be scared. Well anyway, because I have been in that situation more than once, and am just not the type of person who willingly gives up that much control in the first place, it was unthinkable that I would not be on "high alert" when in the passenger seat with a 16yo who's been driving fewer total hours than I've spent stuck in traffic!

But truth be told, there I was, son driving, me daydreaming, and time passing.

We get to the Y completely uneventfully and I'm yanked back to reality only when he stops to make the left turn into the Y. It was at that moment when I realized why this trip was so unusual: My son is turning into a responsible adult. (Knowing his parents as well as I do - that seems like a miracle.)

As I drive home alone, I'm remembering this same child was the one who, just a few years ago, could barely steer his bike straight but was nevertheless hell bent on riding the thing as fast as possible while ignoring all the dangers: Parked cars. Moving cars. Other kids. Trees. You get the idea.

Thankfully he drives cars nothing like that. Funny how they grow up when we're not paying attention.

When I arrive at home, I open the garage door and can you guess what's the first thing I see? Sitting there, propped against the wall, is the bike that reckless child once used to ride. Bent wheel, torn seat, crooked and battered handlebars . . .

I decide that I'll drive him back after his workout.