Sunday morning drive...

mood: it was a good day
music: simon & garfunkle
random word: topsytail
Speeding down Route 316 into Hebron for the first time since being late to first period senior year was almost the same except speeding to school meant going 40 m.p.h., but since they’ve changed the speed limit, speeding is now redefined as going 55 m.p.h. along a narrow, curvey, hilly, country road. It ups the intensity factor a couple of notches.

My mission was to make it to the pharmacy before it closed after realizing in the nick of time that I should probably get a Father’s Day card for my new stepfather. Recently developed theory: divorce and remarriage are nothing more than a brilliant marketing ploy that requires us to buy twice as many presents on any given holiday.

My legs are sweating against the leather seat and I can feel my short skirt start to wrinkle. My hair is flying madly out the open sunroof and I’m feeling like a big deal as I shift the hot red Jetta into fourth gear, don my sunglasses and turn on the radio, prepared to find another boring, Sunday-morning talk show. I am stunned and amused at the joke when what do I hear but Big Shot! I quickly crank up the volume to max and proceed to drown out Billy with my own heat-stroke-bellowing version, all the while picturing Billy prancing around the stage in a baseball cap, playing catch with the microphone.

New favorite feeling: my sweaty palms banging on the leather steering wheel as if it were a set of steel drums and pulling into the parking lot with 5 minutes to spare before the pharmacy closes and 5 minutes to remember if there had been an actual purpose to that drive, other than being the prefect Sunday morning pick-me-up.

Hugs all around,
Cata

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