Road trip! That’s what she
Said and we buckled up quick
Driving with Mama
Time for Friday Haiku with Lou. Join us, won’t you? Another challenge this week is Road Trip so it was on my mind. That one will come in time, too. Daughter, Lessa, and I love to road trip.
A thin girl with dreads sat in the corner of the coffee shop strumming a guitar. People nearby drinking coffee, ignore the empty hat on the floor.
The words she sang dug into their souls, try as they might to keep them out.
I would die – I would kill for you
Disturbing images – cast aside in today’s “I can’t be bothered†society.
A woman walks forward, touches the girl’s shoulder, offers her a sandwich and a ten dollar bill.
I give these to you because I believe in you.
The girl accepted the gifts. Her smile lit the room.
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The above is written for Lance and LeeRoy’s 100 wordsong challenge: #1 Crush from Garbage.
And God saw that it was good. And there was evening, and there was morning —the third day. (Genesis)
That is a distance of 4558 miles. Amazingly it took them less than a week to travel that distance. Their pictures were hilarious; taken through the windshield from the moving vehicle.
We enjoyed visiting with them, introducing them to our now grown daughters and the grandchildren.
Then they got restless. Along about the third day. You know – one of the days God said was good? Yeah, that day.
Hubbymoose and I owned a small print shop. It was important that we both be there to accomplish the day’s chores. We could not always be available to our tourists. We gave them directions and drew maps and sent them on their way.
However, we came home at dinner time to find them sullen about having been left to their own devices. A change of plans was called for; we notified customers of a delay in delivery of their printed forms and planned to take our tourists on a day trip. They would drive their truck (complete with mattress and provisions in the covered bed) and we would ride our motorcycles. (At least we could have fresh air, right?)
God smiled. He chuckled. He laughed out loud.
And then He sent the deluge. We encountered rain of the likes we had not seen all that summer.
We made a quick turn into a campground, geared up in rainsuits, regrouped with the kin, and headed on to Seward. They were snug in their truck and we? We were riding free.
We live in Alaska. We make our own fun.
We looked forward to the 4th day.
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One of Trifecta’s editors is visiting family this week. She reminds us all that, like fish, guests smell a bit after three days. The above story is(mostly) true.
Riding down the open road
At speeds past (mumble-dy 3)
The sights, the smells are closer
Than ever before to me
Invigorating, as powerful horses
Thrum beneath my feet
The ground so close you could
Almost taste the passing street
Smelling the smells of spring
Time and time again
Wild roses, white clover
The pavement after rain
Seeing the vistas spread
Side to side – in front of me
Swivel head for safety and
Taking in all I could see
I miss it now that I no
Longer can take part
My motorcycle and I will
Ride forever in my heart
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posted for VV’s weekly 100 word challenge: Invigorating.
I started riding when I was 44, having purchased my first motorcycle the day after my second grandchild, first granddaughter, was born. (biker gramma) I rode that bike for over 10,000 miles, then moved up to a larger bike, then a larger bike still. I rode well over 75,000 miles on those three bikes. I miss them, but had to quit when my hands refused to cooperate any longer. Now I write wistfully of riding.
🙂
The paperboy was my savior when I was about four years old. We lived on Punta Alley in the north end of Columbus, Ohio. An empty used car lot anchored one end and the railroad tracks anchored the other end of the street. A row of attached houses (nowadays called by the prettied-up name of four-plexes or condos) lined the south side and a brick wall lined the north side.
Back in those days kids played outside – a lot – especially when moms and dads were having “discussionsâ€. You know the saying that “little pitchers have big earsâ€.
I did not have a puppy of my own, so I played with the ones in the alley. The day I was saved by the paperboy one of the puppies had cornered me and was attacking me, not allowing me to get back to my house. The paperboy came along at just the right time to ward off the attack with large rocks and pieces of bricks.
My mother came out about that time to see what the ruckus was all about. It was not until then that I realized my puppy was really a large rat. I had been in serious danger.
I received a few swats that night, but they were generously interspersed with grateful, teary hugs as well. The paperboy was rewarded with thanks and hugs, and likely a plate of cookies.
To this day I do not like rodents of any kind. (I didn’t care for the movie or the song Ben, either) I am also not a dog person. Funny how such things color our lives.
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This week our trusty Trifecta twosome (miss you, David) have challenged us with the third definition of alley.