Buy a Ford!

Damn if I know how or why this reverie came back to me:

I had traversed the continent in my Porsche 914. The beast quit on me on a back road outside of Boulder, Colorado (years later I learned that the engine bay harbored an ugly secret: the fuel pump was mounted waaaay too close to the heat exchanger...drive long enough and hard enough and the pump vaporizes the gasoline before it ever finds its way to a spark plug). No matter.

I stood there on the side of road. Overheated, catatonic machine on the one hand. Tired, haggard, malnourished, long-haired, sun-burned pilgrim on the other. Given these two empty hands o' mine, I simply stood there blinking.

Then a pickup cruised by.

No. It did not stop. The passenger side window sashayed down. An arm extended out. The middle finger pointed straight up to the sky.

"Buy a Ford" sneered a disembodied voice.

I couldn't help myself. I laughed. I surely did. Doubled over in guffaws, in fact. Can't explain why, but I found it all incredibly funny. Ah, yes. Some answers come quick and easy, don't they?

I never did buy that Ford. Truth be told, I drove my Porsche from sea to sea, from breakdown to breakdown, from north to south and back again and again and again (she sleeps in my garage as I type).

I guess I'll never forget that moment...stranded on my own in the middle o' nowhere...that arm, that finger, that voice...and the advice not taken.

* * *

Listening

I’ve assumed (purt near my entire life) that anyone who has anything substantive to say will simply speak. And I will listen.

It hasn’t actually turned out that way. Turns out a great deal has been left unspoken.

The question, therefore, is:

Am I hearing-impaired?

Have my ears have been deemed less than trustworthy, reliable or faithful?

Or is it that we're simply creatures prone to tie our tongues in knots?

* * *

(I'd kinda like to know)

Tornado Warnings

The TV stammers pixels in the adjoining room. Lights flicker in the corner of my left eye. No matter. My ears are tuned to the National Weather Service alerts. They’ve been beep-beep-beeping all evening long. It appears that a band o’ gypsy tornadoes has been tearing up corn fields in the counties situated immediately to the west of me.

It’s just that kind of ominous night.

Here’s a weird little factoid: I’ve seen two tornadoes. I witnessed a funnel descend from a vortex of green clouds almost directly above me. I watched another traverse the prairie just to the north o’ me. I never gave it all that much thought, me being a “child of the prairie” and all...but...come to think of it, it IS weird to have witnessed two tornadoes.

Weirder still (or not), is that I just stood there mesmerized. I didn’t move as a funnel descended towards me. I didn’t turn and run as a funnel chewed my landscape. I simply stood and stared. Too awed by the power and fury to move. Too humbled. Too insignificant to defy forces waaaaay beyond my comprehension.

* * *

Sweetness

* * * Sweetness infused our conversations * * *

Family and friends re-connected a bit these past few days. A good number of conversations ensued. They were all infused with a palpable sweetness.

We’re a well-aged lot, my family and friends. We’re parentless to one degree or another. Liver spots proliferate. There’s a lot o’ gray and audible creaking.

There’s sweetness, humility and great love, too.

We’ve come a long, long way together. From youth, through adult preoccupations and travails, all the way through to decrepitude.
And we laugh quite a bit about all that. And we cry on each others’ shoulders every now and then as well. The love is undeniable. It has survived all manner of sieges and storms. Yes, indeed, we’ve come a long, long way together.

When we converse nowadays most of the truly important elements remain unspoken (but are deeply felt): the love, the loyalty, the history and the knowing.

* * * Sweetness infuses our conversations * * *

Open Window Nights

I’ve been exceedingly lucky. For the last week or so, I’ve been able to throw all the windows in my domicile wide open at dusk. It’s a rare treat. Too often, the air is too cold. Too often the air is hot and dank. But...every so often...the air is just right.

My windows remained thrown open as breezes coursed from south to north, tickling me (for I lay naked) as they scurried about in their vagrant breeze/James Dean-ish way. I listened to cascading rain. I had once made love to an amazing woman as raindrops entertained and the air felt fresh and wholesome. The scent, today, remains the same. The raindrops no less entertaining. But, tonight I’m alone. Funny how everything stayed the same while everything changed.

Doves coo in the distance.

* * *

Simple Things

Life’s pleasures come from simple things...

Fingertips brushed across thigh

Honest conversation

Lips and kisses and

a bottle of wine...

And, oh yes, a starlit night.

I’m the sort who prefers to keep things simple:

I love you

I hope you’ll love me, too.

‘Til the stars fall from the sky...

* * *

But it ain't all that simple, is it?

* * *