TIME TRAVEL

A Fleeting Moment of Youth

This time, memory serves

Out the window snow, photo by the author

The movie we streamed ended and it was time for bed. We were both a little tired.

The image out the bedroom window was cause for pause. Pretty bright for well after sunset. It took a moment to realize why.

“Look at this,” I told Mary. I held the curtain aside.

“Snow!”

“And well more than the expected amount I had forgotten about.”

“Maybe you should move the truck.”

Parking is one of the downsides of our new condo adventure. For a single car, the first-floor garage is great. However a second vehicle must be parked outside since indoor space is limited. And when it snows, the required location is not the one usually selected for access to the door.

“I guess you’re right.” I resigned myself to heading down to the parking lot and moving the truck. But when one’s head is anticipating the pillow, pulling on boots, a jacket, gloves, and a hat is a chore. Grumble, grumble.

Down the stairs and out the door, it became apparent that moving the vehicle was necessary. Multiple inches of snow covered the truck. After carefully scraping the snow away from the door seam with a gloved hand so that opening the door would not suck a white cloud into the cab, I grabbed the snow brush and removed the minimum necessary for the short drive to point B.

That bit of drudgery complete, I pulled myself up into the driver’s seat and started the truck. A few seconds later I eased it into the designated parking spot that would not impede snow removal.

Reaching for the key, I glanced in the rear-view mirror. The extended parking lot behind was completely empty of cars and covered with unmolested inches of snow. A dim memory of rear-wheel drive family cars in snow-covered parking lots and youthful recklessness suddenly came into sharp focus.

“Wait a minute. When not in 4-wheel, this truck is rear-wheel drive.”

Instead of the key, my hand grabbed the shift lever and put it into reverse. Out of the parking space, the shift lever moved into drive and years fell away. Up to speed, the wheel went hard right and the pedal to the metal.

“Eeee-haaah!”

Did I really yell as the truck did a double donut on the slippery surface? If not, I should have. What absolutely fabulous fun! The only thing missing were my teen-age friends. And subtraction of at least 50 years.

Truck back where it would stay for the night, I bounded up the stairs with an ear-to-ear grin. My cell documented the aftermath from the three-and-one-half story stairway window.

Double donut by the author. Had it occurred in a left-hand drive country, it would have been a double doughnut. Photo by author.

Back in our abode, I showed the photo of the tracks to Mary.

She slowly shook her head side-to-side in “approval.”

Click here to subscribe to the free weekly newsletter of Crow’s Feet: Life As We Age.