The first awesome day of the not quite spring was in full force. Slobberbone was pouring out of the speakers at higher than recommended volume and beers were chilling in a cooler.
The lawn chair was rusted, but still all in one piece. Perfectly positioned in the driveway where one could see things coming and/or going. Yes, it was going to be a damn good day.
Then she drove by. Her dark blue Ford Tempo glistening in the sun. Well, glistening as much as a car can when it’s shrouded by the layer of salt that cars tend to become permanently attached to here.
Like always, she slows down in front of my house. I have no idea if it’s due to the impending stop sign at the intersection ahead, or if she only does it when I’m outside. I watch her car approach, slow and drive by. During which she smiles and waves at me.
I smile and wave back.
This happened a lot last summer and fall. Then, it stopped. I guess because I was never outside. The ass-bitingly cold winter sapped that out of me. A definite sign of my impending doom. Cold used to not bother me. But now, my teeth hurt. My muscles shake. My will disappears. It’s sad, really. I’m the guy that used to pride myself on wearing Umbro shorts 365 days a year. Snow? Hell, I’ll put on a sweatshirt. That kind of behavior was normal.
Now, I go outside and shiver. In jeans and long johns. Brr has replaced the whir in my life. I chalk it up to being really out of shape. I’m not fat, just don’t exercise much anymore. No more 30-mile bike rides to a thrift store in the deserts of Arizona to try and find an Atari cartridge that I didn’t have yet. Oh, the stupidity of youth. I still have credit card balances due to my endless “searching” for crap. Or later in life, riding into the projects of New Orleans en route to just taking in the town that I love so much. I still think I can get around on a bike there much better than in a car. When I moved to Virginia, the bike rides stopped. I lived in suburban sprawl, and I hated it. It became normal behavior. So much so, when I moved to the sticks of North Carolina, I didn’t start riding again. Of course, the couple of times I did there, I almost got killed, so maybe that has something to do with it? But fuck (ha!) I was hit by a Mercedes in Tempe once. Flew over the hood, landed and was fine. The Mercedes? Not so much. “You OK?” the guy driving exclaimed as I got back on my bike like an illegal running from the border patrol. He must’ve thought something was up with this pony-tailed skinny fucker. Meth maybe? “I’m fine, man,” I said. “But your car isn’t!” and I pedaled away.
As I sit in my lawn chair, pondering these thoughts I watch that Ford Tempo pull away. From what I can see through the muddied windshield, she’s cute. Probably in her early 30s. I wonder if we’ll ever actually speak. If I have anything to do with it, no. If she does, yes. Such is life. I take a swig of beer. My throat is sore. Been battling some kind of sickness for a week now. Last night I had a fever and chills. Today, I’m sitting outside drinking a beer and pondering strangers driving past and whether or not they’d date me. Pretty normal afternoon.
The wind kicks up something violent. Another thing about the beach that I haven’t quite got a grasp on. The wind. Right now, it’s 70 degrees out, but the wind blowing off the ocean drops the relative temp by 15 degrees when it gusts like this. 30, 40 mile per hour gusts. With the ocean still struggling to reach 50 degrees, it’s no wonder I feel sickly. That and my assorted ailments that not having health insurance will end up costing me a hell of a lot more down the road ass is filled with -- kidney stones, heart issues, diabetes, anemia, liver, etc…..It’s enough to drive one to drink. Yet, I usually stop after two beers now.
Getting old Jones. Getting old.
“Crow Pot Pie” is coming to an end. Much like this beautiful day. Thunderstorms will be raging soon. I’m hopeful for a real rager and not just some small thing. The old Weather Channel says it’s not severe here. I want to flog Jim Cantori for that.
I put in another CD. “Everything You Thought Was Right Was Wrong Today.” And I pop open a second beer. I’m going to wait for her to come home. Nothing else to do on a Monday afternoon.
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