Hey! Come back! Don’t leave me out in the rain!
Damn…they left me.
Again. Why do children always
forget to put me away? Honestly, is it
so hard to put toys away before dashing back into the house to do whatever it
is they do when they get inside? I guess
I should be thankful that I am finally going to get a little cleaner…that mud
hole from this morning sure did leave a mess on my undercarriage. And I’m quite sure we rolled through that
dumb dog’s business a couple of days ago.
But still…it really sucks getting left outside in the rain. If I had motor I could put myself away, but
nooooooo…You don’t need a motor. You’ll
be pushed by little feet and the imagination of child drivers. What a crock of shit. If I ever see that stupid red coat again it
will be too soon. I tried to tell him
that I needed a way to power myself. I
told him. I said, “Santa, don’t you
think I’d be a better car if I had a motor?
All great cars have motors. How
am I going to truly reach my potential without a motor? You could even experiment with me. Put in one of those power motors the elves have
been using for that Power Wheels prototype.
I can take it.” “Oh no,” he
said. “That won’t be ready in time. Besides, my sleigh doesn’t have a motor. I’m powered by the hopes and dreams of
children all over the world.” It took
everything I had to hold my words back.
I wanted so bad to look at him and say, “Then what are the reindeer
for…decoration?!?!”
Geeze…that rain is really coming down now. I hope the wind doesn’t pick up too
much. I hate getting covered in leaves
and beat nearly to death by sticks. At
least I don’t have to worry too much about storm damage. If those rough and tumble boys couldn’t take
me out, I sure as hell aint worried about a little thunderstorm.
Hmmm…I haven’t thought about them in a while. The boys…my boy…I miss that boy. Don’t get me wrong…these new girls are
great. They load me up with new
treasures to carry, and we zip and zoom around the yard. I love to hear them giggle, but it’s just not
the same. When the boys were little, my
boy and those two neighbor boys, we’d spend hours together. Forget the Three Amigos…we were the Fantastic
Four. I was one of the gang! One boy would climb into the seat, and the
other two would join forces and push me around the tree, between the swings,
and even through that muddy place that always seems to be between the patio and
the little hill that leads up to the trampoline. The big people would scream, “Stay out of the
mud!” But us boys…we didn’t listen. The mud was fun!
Over and over again…they push me to the top of the driveway. One boy would climb inside and prop up their
feet on the front dash. Then the other
two would give a big shove and send us racing hard and fast down the
driveway. We’d coast a few seconds and
then dash down the little hill.
Flying! Soaring! Whizzing down
the drive way. In those first few
seconds, I was Mario Andretti…zipping and zooming down the track at Indy. The boy would make that funny noise that is
somewhere between a gut-busting laugh and a terrifying scream. He was so happy. Honestly, I wanted to scream, too…only not
because I was having fun. I wanted to
scream because I knew what was waiting for us at the end of the driveway…the
gate. That damn gate had to be kept
closed so the dogs wouldn’t run
away. I didn’t mind the little dog…he
pretty much left me alone. But that big
one…he was something else. If I’d had my
way, I would have opened the gate so that spotted dog would run away. He kept peeing on me…like he was telling the
world that I belonged to him. To
HIM! Can you believe it? A car for a dog…Horse hockey. I don’t belong to no dumb dog. I don’t belong to nobody. Nobody except that boy. Anyway, we’d race down the drive and then
slam into the gate. It’s a wonder we
never got whiplash. Over and over…shove,
whoosh, crash! I’ve never been so sore
in all my life. Man that was fun.
Once or twice me and the boys tried to race under that old
trampoline. We tried to dodge the
jumping feet above our heads. My boy
would say, “Come on, I bet we can get all the way from one side to the other
while Alicia is in the air.” I tried to
tell him that I couldn’t go that fast…I didn’t have a motor after all. (Santa’s fault…not mine.) But my boy was very sure of himself. We’d wait at the edge of the black mat, and
just as his sister would leap into the air for a backflip, we’d take off. Not even six steps into our journey, the
girl’s feet (and sometimes her knees) would slam into my roof. She’d cry.
He’d laugh. And then we’d hide…we
had to hide quick so mom wouldn’t find us after Alicia went into the house to
tattle. We never did make it all the way
under the trampoline, but it never stopped us from trying.
Sometimes, my boy would put on an eye patch, ratty pants,
and a black hat. He’d come out of the
house waving a plastic sword in one hand and pretending his other hand was just
a hook. He’d climb in the seat, and we’d
be off! “ARRRR, Matey!” he’d call. We’d sail the seven seas searching for ships
to rob and treasure to steal. He was the
captain, and I was his mighty vessel!
He’d find treasures and load them into the cargo hold (under the back window
actually). We’d find new places to hide our
booty (ha…booty) so that NO ONE would ever find it. Those girls would come outside and scream,
“Lewis, where is my tape? I know you
took it!” I’d sit real quiet
like…knowing all along that we had hidden that stupid New Kids cassette under a
bucket in the sand box.
One day, my boy realized that his legs were too long to
squeeze inside me. He had gotten too
big. “This is it,” I thought. “I’m
headed to the dump.” But instead of
carting me off, the dad did something else…something much worse. He put me in the rafters of that big boat
house at the back of the yard. He
stuffed me up there with the old junk that no one ever used. He said they just couldn’t bear to send me to
a new house…I was a special toy that
had brought so many wonderful memories to their son. I should have felt honored…I was special to
them. I had been a great friend to their
boy, my boy really. I should have been
thankful. But really…I was pissed. What toy wants to be put up too high for any
child to reach? What good was keeping me
locked away where no one could play with me?
“The boy won’t stand for this,” I thought. “He’ll come out here and find me, and then
you’ll be sorry.”
But he never came.
Not for me anyway. He came for
the grown-up sized water skis, the knee board, the big bed frame…and then one
day he came with keys for the Jeep…the real Jeep. The one parked just beneath me. The one that had a real motor and big fat
tires. He climbed inside that real Jeep and
started the real engine. Then they drove
off. He drove off without me! How could he?!
He had grown up. I
decided then and there that never again would I belong to some stupid kid. I’m too old for this crap. All kids do is make you love them and then
they leave you. I’m not falling for those
tricks again. I decided I’d just stay up
here in those rafters until the end of the world. I’d show them that they should have just
thrown me away.
But then one day, the boy’s dad came back out to the boat
house (he had a few more gray hairs, but it was the same guy). I heard him ask about me. He was looking for me. Suddenly, he pulled me down from the rafters,
hosed me off, and put a little oil on my wheels. (Sad to say, but I had let
myself rust away a bit.) Anyway…he
pushed me back out into the yard and called over a new kid. A girl. She kind of reminded me of my boy…skinny legs
and a little clumsy. The girl climbed
inside and began to push with her feet.
Her tiny muscles weren’t strong enough to keep us going, so the man
pushed us. “Faster Pawpaw!” she called. He pushed her all over the yard…around the tree
and between the swings, but this time they actually stayed away from the mud. Wimps.
“Are you having fun?” he asked her. “This was Uncle Lew’s car when he was a
little boy.”
“Is he going to be mad that I’m playing with it?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “Uncle
Lew said you could play with it…he thought you’d love it just as much as he
did.”
My boy. My boy didn’t forget about me. He saved me…saved me for the next round of
little drivers to play in the yard.
Pretty soon a second little girl started coming out to play with
me. The other day she climbed inside and
said, “Let’s go, Lightnin’! We gotta
save Mater!” Now I’m not sure who
Lightning is, but I bet I’m faster.
After all, I’m powered by little feet and the imagination of child
drivers.
Love this one!!!
ReplyDeleteThanks friend. :)
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