Wednesday, March 21, 2012

My Absolute Fav-o-rite Place!

An acre and a half.

A cement driveway large enough to hold 6 or 7 trucks.

The cement wraps around a garage that doubles as a small engine repair shop.

Enough smooth surface for bikes, scooters, skateboards, and big wheels.

Enough yard for baseball games, dune buggies, go carts, tractors, and motor bikes.

This place, this Heaven, is my grandpa and grandma's house. My grandpa created a Mecca for his grandchildren. There was a vehicle for everyone and we were always drivin', or ridin', or scootin', or hittin'.

Inside there were people playing cards, or scrabble, while silver pots bubbled with potatoes and the oven produced a roast so fine, it melted in your mouth.

"Hey, Kara!" my dad calls as I careen around the corner of the garage on a big wheel. "Get in," he orders.

He is driving the go cart. I hop up from my big wheel and he cries, "Hurry every chance you get! Your mama will be stickin' her head out the door any second!"

Mom didn't care much for the go carts and worked really hard at keeping us off of them. She lost the battle frequently.

I hop onto the cushioned seat next to my dad and he takes off. The wind is whipping through my hair as we shoot across the driveway, over the grass in the front yard and swerve around the house into the big yard out back. "Yeehaw!" I scream just like the Dukes, my grin splitting my face.

The frigid air (it is December) burns my cheeks, but I don't care. My dad is driving like he's Bo Duke and I am screaming at him to go faster. Luke and Han are racing past us on the motor bike and dune buggy, swapping insults with my dad as they pass us up.

We race around the garage, coming back toward the big driveway and as my dad takes the small jump up onto the driveway, I go rolling out of the go cart. I roll and roll and roll and when I stop, I am surprised as all get out that I am not hurt at all.

"Hey, girl, are you alright?" my dad asks.

I hop to my feet and say, "I'm ok! My puffy coat saved me!"

"Well, thank God for the coat," he says. "Now get back in here and we'll do one more lap."

I hop in and off we go!

Goodness, I adore this place.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Efficient Evening Activities

That time between homework (God save me) and bedtime was my favorite time of day. Mom would make supper, while Bill played with his cars as he sat in his high chair, and Dad would play with us girls.

Hide-and-Seek. And this is how it went.

Dad was always "It", which blew my mind because who would choose to be "It" every time? However, I didn't question him aloud because I wasn't going to be the one who ruined a good thing.

Dad would start counting and we would run and hide, giggling as we ran, pushing long hair out of our faces as we raced to the best hiding spots in the house. He always counted slowly, giving us plenty of time to hide. I made my decision quickly, but Wendy would take forever, giggling as she would hide behind the couch and then change her mind and hide between the piano and the plain view. Then she'd giggle again and run off to a new spot.

I assumed he counted slowly to increase the suspense of the finding. I am not so sure now.

When Wendy finally settled on a place, he would shout, "Ready or not, here I come!"

We'd squeal and giggle with excitement and then he'd say, EVERY TIME, "Are you girls ready?"

And we'd all shout, "Ready!"


And wouldn't you know it, he would find us in less than 10 seconds. At six and a half I thought he was the best detective in the world. At thirty six I am feeling a little stupid.

My dad certainly knew how to get things to work in his favor.