Saturday, November 13, 2004
It's the little things.
It's the little things in life that make me think of the Dukes of Hazzard.
Today, I was at Walmart walking through the automotive section looking for some grease. I walked down the aisle where they sell all the car cleaner and wax and stuff like that. I immediately noticed that the floor was very slick in that aisle. Obviously that floor has seen it's share of car wax spills, leaving a pristine shiny slippery floor that would make water bead up. Anyway, I noticed after I left that aisle that the wheels of my cart were sliding around a bit when I went around corners. Pretty soon, I was doing it on purpose, taking corners too fast and sliding out. I felt so cool, like Luke Duke. I raced around the store, never slowing down for the corners and taking great joy in the fishtailing of my cart, and doing donuts with my cart in the bakery section. I imagined I was racing for the county line and Roscoe had Flash buckled up and they were in hot pursuit. The store manager asked me to leave when I shot a flaming arrow into the Snackwells display. I was never meaning no harm, though.
Another fun way to imagine that you're in Hazzard County is when you are driving your car over a bridge. My friend Jim and I discovered this on our rides to and from high school. When you come up to the bridge, the pavement raises up to the bridge like a ramp. When you hit this ramp, stiffen your back and straighten your hands and you will get the sensation that you are flying through the air, right over a pond or stream. Hold this position until the end of the bridge. When you get to the other side of the bridge and the pavement slopes away from the bridge, loosen up and lunge forward, absorbing the landing. Then look back and laugh as if you are watching Roscoe drive into the pond since he didn't hit the right ramp/bush. Someday the mountain might get me, but the law never will.
Today, I was at Walmart walking through the automotive section looking for some grease. I walked down the aisle where they sell all the car cleaner and wax and stuff like that. I immediately noticed that the floor was very slick in that aisle. Obviously that floor has seen it's share of car wax spills, leaving a pristine shiny slippery floor that would make water bead up. Anyway, I noticed after I left that aisle that the wheels of my cart were sliding around a bit when I went around corners. Pretty soon, I was doing it on purpose, taking corners too fast and sliding out. I felt so cool, like Luke Duke. I raced around the store, never slowing down for the corners and taking great joy in the fishtailing of my cart, and doing donuts with my cart in the bakery section. I imagined I was racing for the county line and Roscoe had Flash buckled up and they were in hot pursuit. The store manager asked me to leave when I shot a flaming arrow into the Snackwells display. I was never meaning no harm, though.
Another fun way to imagine that you're in Hazzard County is when you are driving your car over a bridge. My friend Jim and I discovered this on our rides to and from high school. When you come up to the bridge, the pavement raises up to the bridge like a ramp. When you hit this ramp, stiffen your back and straighten your hands and you will get the sensation that you are flying through the air, right over a pond or stream. Hold this position until the end of the bridge. When you get to the other side of the bridge and the pavement slopes away from the bridge, loosen up and lunge forward, absorbing the landing. Then look back and laugh as if you are watching Roscoe drive into the pond since he didn't hit the right ramp/bush. Someday the mountain might get me, but the law never will.
