Survival, Arrival, Woo Hoo! and Significant Traditions.

If it does not mean anything, does it mean anything?

Planes, Trains or Automobiles.

Vows or Wows?

Or just bored and time for a name change? Sometimes, it just does not work. So you gotta work it? Work at it? Complain because “It’s too hard”. Bail. Bail out.

Like I said. Gotta work it.

Be-bunked? De-banked? De-clunked?

Like I said, gotta work it.

We all remember our first love.

I kinda like, actually loved mine. My first clunker. Even though it left me for dead on the side of the road.

Sold for $50.00. For parts. And along with it the fondest of memories of all out “firsts” together.

And there were many. Ohhhh.The memories. Before OOber or Leeft was even a glip or blip in the original innovators mind. At the time, the price of gas was one fourth of the cost of the madness today. My duties at the time included service of my fellow comrades and roommates including lugging them to and from school, grocery store and the like. To appointments. To and fro from home and homes.

Memories, like the corners of my mind.

Misty water-colored memories.

Of the way we were

For better or worse.

For richer for poorer

In sickness and in health.

As long as we both shall live.

My first clunker and I.

I still remember the feel of the seats, the wheel and oh the get up and go. Silly things that one remembers. Not the container of the clunker—wings, big wheels or small. What I can and do remember…..

When my first love peetered out, I was in high heels. On my way to my future. In a spiffy suit and ready for my first official job interview. I was taking the world by storm. Except my first love had other plans.

The wheels peetered out. Literally and figuratively in the middle of the road, in the middle of nowhere. I looked around and sighed. At least I have a fully functioning working pair of legs.

So I grabbed what I could carry and began the long walk. The opposite of adept at high heels, I was a sight to behold—looking drunk—when really what I was not was a graceful swan in high heels.

Ouch. Did I mention? This was pre cell phone era. Yep. For many of you, that is a time called the dark ages. To a point you would be correct. Spot on.

So I set out on foot to the next town—Wilmington. The sign said. I had no clue how far it was. All I knew was it was early morn and I had a lot of daylight left.

Hurray. At least I looked sharp and professional. Counts for something.

As I walked and walked and walked, my mind wandered. That way I could not think about my cat walk on the side of the freeway. Wavering to and fro, stumbling along the way. Lost track of time. I kept walking toward the Wilmington sign. I stopped in my tracks and thought when I get to Wilmington I hope I brought some quarters for a pay phone to call someone—although not quite sure who that someone was.

Kept walking. Then I did something I never, ever, ever would do in today’s world. I turned and held up my thumb.

Yep. I did that.

I was gettin’ kinda tired. Looking kinda wobbly. So I stuck my thumb up and I guess I thought. I will just take my chances.

Won’t get all preachy on you, but as a believer, I simply thought, if I get a ride and I do not survive the car ride, at least He was with me in the car. We will go down together.

After awhile of “no takers” of me, I considered showing a little more knee.

Yep. I did that.

I only thought about it. Could not actually do it.

Suddenly a car pulled up. Please do not ever think hitch hiking is a way to go. That was then and this is now. The world is a very, very different place. My advice to you, unless you put in the hard labor, the hard work, connection is not all it is cracked up to be—not everything good. Or bad. The world you are growing up in is a whole lot different than the world I am writing about yesterday.

The only similarity between the two time periods is that I prayed then and I pray now. A lot. And for a lot of things and people and circumstances to change. As I was stumbling along in my heels, something happened.

Two young boys, men, college aged kids stopped in front of me and asked if I needed a ride. Ugh. I thought. Yes. I do. I peeked in the car, gave it a feel. And got into the back seat of their car.

Yep. I did that.

I climbed into the back of their car, of a complete and total strangers car. Not knowing who they were, whether they had a rap sheet, or a driver’s license and with the hope of seeing another day.

I found my change and offered them gas money to drive me to the next town of Wilmington. Which turns out, was quite a ways away.

Feeling a little relieved, but on high alert.

The two boys, men, college-aged kids and I exchanged names. Harmless enough I thought. At least if they decide to “off” me we knew one another’s names. That is something.

Oreos.

I looked down next to me.There sat an opened package of OREOs. As we made small talk on our way to Wilmington, one of the two boys, men, college-aged kids asked if I wanted one. I said Yes.

Yep. I did that.

Accepted food from total strangers, not knowing who they were, or where they shopped for food.

Still alive and now a little happy after munching on some OREOS, the two young boys, men, college aged kids, asked me where I was going.

I nearly choked. On the Oreo. I looked up, thought a second and thought a bit fearfully, “Hopefully not to my death” and then told them out loud where I lived, where I was going.

Yep. I did that.

Told two complete strangers where I lived, my address, where they could find me in the near or far future. They offered to drive me all the way there. I paused in my mind.

After consulting my inner critic, cynic and most importantly, God, I said ok. Thank you.

Yep. I did that.

I said that would be nice. Quietly hoping I would live to see my home and family another day. I think. That is what I thought. Although felt partially frozen in my heels.

Anyway, they did indeed take me all the way to my doorstep. And as I got out of their car in one piece, once again offered gas money and a heartfelt thank you for them going out of their way. Which they did in the kindest and kind of way.

They would not take any money for gas. It turns out while we were getting to know each other that they went to the same university I was driving from. They were returning there the next day, so I told them about a party at my roommates’ house. And if they were so inclined AND 21 years old-(which they were, I carded them as I learned to card everyone while working the night shift at the White Hen Pantry) before giving the party house address—to please stop by the party “on me”. As a thank you for allowing me to ride with them.

Yep. I did that.

Thanked them profusely again. Called ahead to my roommates to possibly expect guests the next night and to take it out of my “fund”. Turns out my two new besties did attend the party and all was well and good.

sort of.

Thinking back to the naïveté and innocence with which I climbed into the back of two strangers’s cars, in a skirt and high heels, ate their cookies, told them where I lived AND invited them to a party is something unheard of today. Something that connectivity has realistically killed.

With all our connectivity we are so much further apart, so less caring of one another. All we see nowadays is the screen shot. Hot. Or. Not. Deleted. Superficially concerned with each other’s well being and for what it can do “for me”. Too used to hiding behind a screen destined to feed on one another and the inhuman and inhumane regard to and of each other’s needs, wants.

We, ours must come first.

And to those who are not supposed to be here, raised the stakes of survival and arrival so high and on their backs we feel entitled to our right to steal and skip along our way.

For better or worse.

In sickness and in health.

For as long as we both shall live.

As a means to our ends.

Woo Hoo! We have arrived.