Throughout my young life, my father drove Buicks. The first one I remember, just vaguely, was black with red seats. It was huge, wide and tall, to my small self and I remember having the back seat all to myself. My brother was in the front seat—held by my mother or in a tiny “car seat” with its own steering wheel. Amazing that all my siblings who sat in that tiny seat grew to adulthood. I could sit or lie or play with toys in the big back seat. Unfortunately, I have always been one to get very motion sick. A short ride to church or school, got me dizzy. A 20 minute ride to grandma’s house ruined half a day, and the ride to the Jersey shore would slay me. My father stopped on the shoulder of the road, I got out and threw up everything in my stomach. Even when I didn’t eat or took the dreaded dramamine, which I may have been allergic to, I was wretched.
But this is about driving cars, not riding in them. Only once and in my adult life have I ever felt sick driving and that was in a big, empty school van.
Continue reading
It is 6:40 am and completely dark outside. Oh, this winter cocoon time. I can still be surprised by its intensity as it comes to take a huge bite out of my desire for complacency. It is not as cold outside as it usually is this time of year in Madison, although my Madison peeps are posting hiking and bike riding pictures. Yesterday in Newton, a storm gifted us damp, chilly rain, hail, thunder and lightening.
Chasing Joy 