Cool in Spring

This morning I awakened to one of the most beautiful days I've
encountered in a long time. Maybe it was just because I wasn't
hungover, or perhaps, it was just because the day was gorgeous.

Since it was such a beautiful day and the kids aren't home, I had
an incredible urge to do someting sweet, and caring and very
unselfish.

I'm going to wash my car.

I don't get to do it very often, my weekends are usually busy doing
other stuff, like laundry, changing diapers, and watching Sportscenter.

So today, I will succeed in my car-washing venture. The weather is
perfect. Not a cloud in the sky, well one that looks like Oprah, it
keeps getting bigger,.......then smaller....

It's perfect car-washing conditions. Sunny, warm, and I finally paid
my over-due water bill. You couldn't ask for better circumstances.

Dressed in shorts, t-shirt and sandals, I rush out into the warm
air, ready to wax on.....wax off.

While I'm sitting at Texaco in the car wash, waiting for the hot wax
cycle to finish, and enjoying some Lynard Skynard, I'm reminded of
when, as a sixteen year old, I had finally got my first car.

I washed it every single day. Sometimes twice a day if I had driven it
over five miles. Back then, I had women, or girls, to impress. My car
had to shine like a new dime.

Now days, I'm lucky to get my vehicle washed twice a year. It usually
happens once in the Spring, and once that folowing Fall. And that's
only if I can talk the kid who cuts my grass into doing it. (I enjoy
referring to him as a kid, me being only thirty-three. I think he's
like forty-two.)

After finally getting the car washed, I felt invigorated, and alive. I
opened up the sunroof, to allow the warm spring sun to filter in, and
warm my receding hairline.

Cranking up the radio inspired me to press down on the accelerator a
little more, and I quickly zipped through town. I made a swing
through the Wal-Mart parking lot, you know, 'cause that's where
you go to be seen. Leaving Wal-Mart, without buying anything,
(first time ever) I hit the main road, heading back to the house.

With my car shining, I pull up to the next red light in style. Next to
me, in the other lane, sits a very attractive female in a Lexus SUV.
I adjust my sunglasses, tap my steering wheel to the beat of the
Black Eyed Peas, and try to look cool. Which really wasn't that
hard, 'cause I was indeed, feeling cool. And my windows are tinted.

It was at the moment of my highest coolness, that I noticed
something dripping into my lap. At first, I thought it was sweat.
But I was cooler than sweat. When I looked down into my lap,
I noticed it wasn't sweat, it was white and purplish. Glancing up,
and out the open sunroof, I saw the sure sign of Spring. An
orange breasted Robin, sitting on a power line, with no sign of
decency or respect for newly washed vehicles, was taking aim at
my car, my head, and my coolness.

Driving home without my sunglasses and ball cap on, I decided
next weekend, I will get outside and wash my car myself, and
just try to be cool for me. I'll get out there with a hose, bucket,
some rags, and soap.

Then I remembered,... I'm busy. It's March Madness baby!
The Final Four starts next weekend.

Who needs a clean car to enjoy Spring anyway? A clean car
won't bring you happiness, and neither will an open sunroof.
These things won't make you "cool". What you really need is
a convertible!

And a time machine.

Car Keys to My Heart

It's not very far from the sofa to the little side table at the end of
the sofa. As a matter of fact, I can cover it in two steps. Unless of
course, I'm trying to watch TV, want to change channels, and
then realize the remote control happens to be on that table. Then,....
well....the sun is closer.

For 'lil Langley, who turns the big 1 on Monday, getting to that
little table seemed to take forever. However, the magical, noise
making car keys happened to be on that table today, so she just
had to get there, and fast.

She can get there by crawling. It's gotten her places before. Crawling
has been good to her. Never let her down, very dependable. However,
its time for an upgrade. Trade it in for something nicer, more
aerodynamic, and maybe with better ground clearance.

Sure, she can make it there by walking, with me holding one of her
tiny hands, but I can't hold it forever, right?

So I let go....

She looks up at me, then back at the keys. Back at me. Back to the
keys. She hasn't realized yet, she's standing on her own.

That first step was easy, she did it without thinking about it. Sort
of like in the near future,... sixteen years old, flying down the
freeway at eighty miles an hour, applying mascara and talking on the
cell phone. Easy.

That second step was different, but still exciting. At least it was
for me.

There was a thought process involved. It finally hit her that she was
on her own. She also realized she still wanted those keys. Her right

foot, very tentatively, eased out in front of her. searching for, then
finding, solid gound. Reminded me of seeing someone on a frozen
over pond, testing the ice out if front of them before taking that
next step. I was looking around for Lassie holding a long tree branch
in his mouth.

Finally setting her foot down, then swinging the other around to catch
up, she turned, looked at me and smiled. I was suddenly glad I had
left my keys on the end table. I was so happy. More so than that
weekend, last month, when for whatever reason, I had free HBO.

Two careful steps later, keys in hand, she plops down to the floor.
Mission accomplished. She's happy, I'm thrilled.

With her content to play on the floor for a while, I retreat to the
computer to fire off some emails to the grandparents and order
more keys. I'll be happy to buy her all the keys she wants.

Until she turns sixteen.


dave