As I was finishing 4 years, 4 months
and 24 days, and a total of 12,610 miles of peddling this morning, and was a
scant hundred yards from completing my ‘daily 10,’ I ‘ditto’ed’ a feat which I
had managed to ‘perform’ four previous times in my recurrent travels.
I ‘Peter Panned’ over the handlebars
of my bicycle, and landed rudely on the asphalt. For as I was almost within
sight of my house a possum suddenly appeared, and crossed the road three feet
in front of me. I had just milliseconds to respond, and I chose a slightly
different course of action than I had chosen five years before, when a pit bull
thought it would be cool to accompany me; (but without first asking permission).
At that time, I purposely plowed into the poor beast, ‘Peter Panned’ off the
front of my bike, and managed to break my left arm.
Having (seemingly) learned
a great deal from that episode, this time around I braked for the ugly rodent;
allowing him (or her) time to go about his (or her) business.
I regret to say my latest course of action
proved to be only slightly more successful than the one I have just recounted
for you. Landing on my hands, knees and chest I lay next to my disabled bicycle
for the longest time, and hesitated to get up.
After I lay next to my two wheeled
conveyance for several minutes I summoned up the courage to assess my
physiology. While in a sitting position I stood the bicycle up next to me,
lowered the kick stand, and used the frame of the bike for leverage. As I
managed to stand to my (un)impressive height of 5’8” I realized my legs were
functional, though the epidermis on my knees, hands and forearms were scrapped
‘from hither to yon.’
The bicycle had been incapacitated, as
the brake and gear wires were twisted in such a way that the front tire was
turned backward, and impossible to correct. Thus, I lifted the bike up to my
shoulder, and manhandled it back to my house.
Pt. 2
As I made my way back to my home I
recalled an event from the first decade of this century. From time to time my
wife and I had heard the sound of little footfalls in the attic above our
living room.
Of course, I assumed it was a mouse, but it was only after a few
weeks of this noisesome nuisance that I decided to investigate.
Climbing up the access ladder in our
garage, and clicking on the attic lightbulb, I saw him (or her). A possum.
Well, I can tell you that he (or she) wasn’t all that thrilled to see me, and
perhaps even less so when I realized the creature’s right front paw was caught
in one of the rat traps I’d set in the attic.
Of course, I felt sorry for the
wayward little beast, but there seemed to be no recourse, as it never ceased to
hiss at me and show its nasty fangs. And there was always the possibility it
was rabid. Now mind you, I cannot tolerate those nature shows which depict a
crocodile dragging a hapless zebra into its watery environment, or a hunter
placing a well-aimed bullet into a rhinoceros. But I was left with no choice.
As a result, I climbed back down the
ladder and retrieved a hammer out of my tool chest. (I think you can guess
where this is going). Having retrieved the hammer I retraced my steps up the
access ladder, stepped up to the hissing, fang-bearing little demon, and
brought the lethal weapon down; only to miss my intended target, and punch the
hammer head through my popcorn ceiling. However, my second attempt to dispatch
the beast connected with the furry critter’s skull, and mercifully dispatched
him (or her).
As I set my inoperable bicycle down on
my unenclosed porch and unlocked my front door, I had the whimsical, illogical
thought that my recent little road acquaintance might have been closely related
to the attic possum I had so rudely dispatched, and he (or she) had finally discovered
a way to get even. Of course, I dismissed the thought as quickly as it wafted
through the gray matter between my ears.
Pt. 3
Five ‘flights of fancy.’ Enough ‘Peter
Pans’ to count on one hand. And though I do so love my 10 mile recurring trek
in the wee hours of the morning, I have (sadly) reached a conclusion that
enough is enough, and at the grand old age of 2/3 of a century it is time to ‘put
away childish things’ (lest I go the way of that dearly departed attic possum).
Having taken a bit of time to
recuperate today, and cover my right knee with an ice pack, I decided I needed
a bit of fresh air this evening, and I informed my wife I was going to check
our mail at the nearby post office.
Backing our 2015 Nissan Altima out of
the garage, and setting a westerly course I rounded the curve which runs along
the dog path where I sustained this morning’s accident. It was then I saw him
(or her). You guessed it. He (or she) scurried out of the road, and into a
nearby ditch. And just before disappearing, the nasty little critter cast its
beady eyes in my direction.
Perhaps it was only my rich
imagination, but it seemed to me that as I accelerated on the straight-a-way that
a strange, and unexpected sound accompanied my passing.
… “NaNaNaNaNaNa”
If you wish to share, copy or save, please include this credit line.
By
William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 52. Copyright pending
If you wish to share, copy or save, please include this credit line.
************
If you would like to see the titles and access hundreds of my blogs from 2015 and 2016, do the following:
Click on 2015 in the index to the right of this blog. When my December 31st blog, "The Shot Must Choose You" appears, click on the title. All my 2015 blog titles will come up in the right margin
If you would like to see the titles and access hundreds of my blogs from 2015 and 2016, do the following:
Click on 2015 in the index to the right of this blog. When my December 31st blog, "The Shot Must Choose You" appears, click on the title. All my 2015 blog titles will come up in the right margin
Click on 2016 in the index to the right of this blog. When my December 31st blog, "Children of a Lesser God" appears, click on the title. All my 2016 blog titles will come up in the right margin
No comments:
Post a Comment