In case you were wondering, it takes approximately 22 minutes to walk downtown from our house. And that's with a shortcut through the perpetually buzzing field by the assisted living center, which cut the walk by at least 2 minutes.
Now you might be thinking, "But Clara, you ride your bike everywhere. Why would you walk downtown on a busy morning like today when you could get there in 7 minutes with just a pair of wheels?" Well, I'll tell you.
I got off work last night just before six, after sweating all day even in Indian Creek's air-conditioned interior, to a gathering darkness in the sky. The air was even heavier than it had been all day, but I had to write an email and I wanted to see the Atlantis Jazz Quartet play in the park, and say hi to Tony and Ali serving gyros under a tent on the grass.
Ann was going to drive down, since neither one of us was sure I could make it home on my bike, even if I left right away, before lightning rent the sky. So I rode down to the Overlook, locked up my bike, and sat down at a picnic table with one of the Winery regulars to wait.
She called me frantically, saying, "I just drove the Rover down here and the hood is smoking."
"Where are you?" I asked as the band cast nervous glances over their shoulders at the black clouds racing across the sky and the tornado siren sounding across the river from Taylors Falls.
"You're right across from me. Come over."
We popped the hood and looked around for the source of a lot of pale yellow fluid dripping steadily out of every crevice and eventually discovered a leak in the brake line. As we patched it temporarily with gorilla tape I looked up and saw a menacing white-crested cloud advancing speedily on the small crowd frantically packing up lawn chairs and jazz instruments. By the time I got back there and unlocked my bike, sand was biting my face and bare legs and hanging baskets were starting to blow off lampposts and into the streets.
A young blond mother held one small boy by the hand while her other son, sitting in a wagon behind her, screamed in terror, "AAAAUAAGHGHGHG WE'RE GONNA DIE! MOM! WE'RE GONNA DIIIEEEE!"
"We're not gonna die," she assured him firmly as I ran past with my bike, trying in vain to shield my eyes from oncoming sand. "Hey! Need a ride?" a man called from the parking lot.
"No thanks, I've got a friend with a car!" I yelled back and turned to see Ann yelling at me, "Drop the bike and run! We need to get inside!"
"Are you sure?!" I hollered back, even though we were 3 feet away from each other by this point.
"Yes, drop it! We have to get inside!"
I propped the bike against a garage and we raced across the street breathlessly into Tangen Drug, where the manager grinned at us, "It's bad out there, huh?" And two teenaged clerks stared wide-eyed out into the tempest.
"I left the windows open in the Rover," Ann said. In shock we stared out the storefront windows, blinking sand out of our eyes as the tornado siren blared up on our side of the river.
To be continued...
Now you might be thinking, "But Clara, you ride your bike everywhere. Why would you walk downtown on a busy morning like today when you could get there in 7 minutes with just a pair of wheels?" Well, I'll tell you.
I got off work last night just before six, after sweating all day even in Indian Creek's air-conditioned interior, to a gathering darkness in the sky. The air was even heavier than it had been all day, but I had to write an email and I wanted to see the Atlantis Jazz Quartet play in the park, and say hi to Tony and Ali serving gyros under a tent on the grass.
Ann was going to drive down, since neither one of us was sure I could make it home on my bike, even if I left right away, before lightning rent the sky. So I rode down to the Overlook, locked up my bike, and sat down at a picnic table with one of the Winery regulars to wait.
She called me frantically, saying, "I just drove the Rover down here and the hood is smoking."
"Where are you?" I asked as the band cast nervous glances over their shoulders at the black clouds racing across the sky and the tornado siren sounding across the river from Taylors Falls.
"You're right across from me. Come over."
We popped the hood and looked around for the source of a lot of pale yellow fluid dripping steadily out of every crevice and eventually discovered a leak in the brake line. As we patched it temporarily with gorilla tape I looked up and saw a menacing white-crested cloud advancing speedily on the small crowd frantically packing up lawn chairs and jazz instruments. By the time I got back there and unlocked my bike, sand was biting my face and bare legs and hanging baskets were starting to blow off lampposts and into the streets.
A young blond mother held one small boy by the hand while her other son, sitting in a wagon behind her, screamed in terror, "AAAAUAAGHGHGHG WE'RE GONNA DIE! MOM! WE'RE GONNA DIIIEEEE!"
"We're not gonna die," she assured him firmly as I ran past with my bike, trying in vain to shield my eyes from oncoming sand. "Hey! Need a ride?" a man called from the parking lot.
"No thanks, I've got a friend with a car!" I yelled back and turned to see Ann yelling at me, "Drop the bike and run! We need to get inside!"
"Are you sure?!" I hollered back, even though we were 3 feet away from each other by this point.
"Yes, drop it! We have to get inside!"
I propped the bike against a garage and we raced across the street breathlessly into Tangen Drug, where the manager grinned at us, "It's bad out there, huh?" And two teenaged clerks stared wide-eyed out into the tempest.
"I left the windows open in the Rover," Ann said. In shock we stared out the storefront windows, blinking sand out of our eyes as the tornado siren blared up on our side of the river.
To be continued...
No comments:
Post a Comment