transportation

There's a Monte Carlo, circa 1977, driving around our neighborhood lately. Isn't this the most awesome car you've ever seen? This is the car - even the same color - my parents had when I was first driving. I LOVED sitting behind the wheel of the ever-so-elegant Monte Carlo.

But in reality, I didn't get to drive it very often. Usually the available vehicle offered to me was a double cab, long bed pickup truck. It was HUGE! Although this picture is the size and shape of the truck I drove, ours had the lovely mid-1970's styling more like this:

It was the truck that went on Saturday river trips, and to the dump, and other various exciting destinations around Winslow.

But if I was going to be very truthful about my transportation options, this is what I was driving most days:

I got a 10 speed bicycle in 8th grade that was my transportation option 90% of the time through high school. I rode it to mutual, I rode it to piano lessons, I rode it to my friend's house. I tried to never ride it to school because I didn't want to feel like a loser (as if being a pedestrian for my entire high school career never tainted that reputation). Winslow is a pretty tiny place and I could get most anywhere pretty quick.

I got a note from my friend, Terri, the other day. "Could you all please come back so I can ride my bike to your house, play in the attic and laugh till my sides hurt?"

I look back on so many good memories growing up in Winslow. I sometimes wonder why I was so anxious to leave town when I finished high school.

So, Terri, I know we always laugh and have fun when we get together, and I do have an attic, so . . . . just say when!

Favorite bike story: Once I had to get a tooth pulled prior to orthodontics, . . . so 8th grade maybe? I was dropped off along with my bike at the dentist and I was going to ride the few blocks home afterwards. I was upset that I had to ride my bike, but looking back now, all 9 kids were still at home and mom was a limited resource to all of our needs. Anyway, apparently I was more of a bleeder than would have been expected and the cotton pad in my mouth filled to overflowing on the ride home and blood was dripping down my chin and over my shirt as I made my way across town to get home. Yeah, . . . good times!