"Big wheels keep on turnin'..."

Sunday morning. Two insomniacs sleepin' in. Counting. Waiting on it to be late enough or early enough to make coffee, let the dogs out, dial each other's numbers....Kimbies and I. "Whatchya doin' today?" "Ah, dunno. It's cold. I wish we could just go to the beach" "yeah" "Soon sister, soon...." "yeah". "Hey, you think we should get bikes? For the beach, I mean?" "To like ride at sunrise?" "Yeah....yeah, I do"

Sunday morning. 10:45. Two sibs in painted pajamas and sock feet waiting on the sun to do it's job. "What's you're agenda for today?" "I dunno. Wanna go bike shoppin'?"

So we did. With Papa, Kimbies hub, in tow. We made the rounds. Walmart, K-Mart, Target, (Sears doesn't sell 'em anymore) We tooled around toy departments, balancing on pegs, braking fast for little old ladies with buggies. We cruised up the sock aisles and banged 360's in "I accidently got here" automotive departments. We shimmied on seats and "grrrrrrrr'ed" the handlebars. We posed for pretend pictures. "How cool do I look on this one?"

We left empty handed over and over again. Dreaming of the perfect ride. "It'll have a cushy seat, tilted a little forward" "I wanna basket" "Not me, I wanna beer rack, a little fender in the back with bungy cords" "Hmmmmm, I just wanna be able to ride facing the sun, not the sidewalk, all crunched over" " I wanna banana seat" "You said that already!"

And then we went there. The "Sports" store! The doors opened automatically. Beeping. We passed rows and rows of boring clothes, water bottles, and neon colored nerf balls. Rubber tires were lined up one after another like wet noses poking through a fence. The bikes! We looked around. Unleashed them. All of them. "This one's mine! Mine! Mine!" Papa's little ride was deja vue, and after three trips around the cleats, he was slingin' Sunday morning papers with his right hand....Cha!Chink! "Morning, Mrs. Robinson!" Kimbies wobbled. Teetered. Smiled. Gained speed. "Clink~Clink"~ her right hand tinked the handlebar, "gonna get a little bell soon" ! I climbed on from the back, no sissy bar on this baby, straddled the black and red and tan Freedom Flyer, and took off. Big wheels turning. We waved when we passed each other. Two fingers raised for peace....Kimbies clinking!

And then we parked them.

Got in the car and drove home.

Thank God we turned around......

Tonight on my way home from nowhere, big wheels turnin', I heard New Orleans in the wind. And then, there around the corner, up the hill, broken sidewalk between us, was the trumpet player....

Daytripping.....

The sun started a riot. Smiling from the sky. Rising on her own. Flipping lazy clouds, like pancakes, out of her view. She whispered on our cheeks, and cackled kind of haughty as she kissed us on our knees...."Follow me, for free".....

We put the top down . Buckled up and took off.....

Hugging the highway, feeling her heat.

Past the row after row of make-believe castles, shuttered up for the winter, with their chain-locked gated lives.....past the private little yachts, Carnival Cruise size, with their tacky little names....."Octopussy" and "The Mare-in-her", past the tennis courts, the Valet parking attendents in bermudas and jackets....

We revved the engine at red lights and bolted on green.....

...Shot the peace sign at housekeepers dusting the cans, tourists in rick-o-shays rattling the streets, and "married-for-money's" toting their tribes....

We snaked between the palm trees and cocacabanas, banged U-turns in Membership Only Concrete worlds, and played chicken with the draw bridges and uniformed men....

We followed the sun ,with her bright blue petticoat, 100 miles south.....

Until they would let us in.......

Where the beer was ice cold, and the barstools were crooked. Where the ladies room door was propped closed with your foot. Where the "We sale sea shells" played music we could dance to. Where the people were comfortable wearing their skin.

"Theres no place like home......."

I miss the red lights.....

I’m running the roads now.

And frankly I don’t like to. I abhor traffic and was perfectly comfortable when Florida practiced “Arrive Alive….Drive 55”…. I could take in the scenery and didn’t suffer from shake-syndrome every time a semi passed the VW. I hate pumping gas and spending money on anything other than beer and beach passes, so charging a full tank onto the company card to be extracted from my pretend paycheck is painful. I don’t like tailgaters, lane-changers, U-haul-its, or trailers. I’m not crazy about SUVs (what if they flip?) and I’ve never understood East and West and North and South….

I can’t see the speedometer without my glasses on and can’t see the highway with them. If I wear my contacts, I have to squint the left eye to see the car in front of me, and the right eye to flick my ashes in the ashtray and not my iced tea. So I drive naked. Blind as a bat.

My kidneys have highway hypnosis. They don’t function at all as soon as they realize we’re going on a trip. I’m Tinkle Bell of the toll roads. I spend more money getting off and on the byway than most folks spend in gas. And don’t even get me going on the public potty phobia…………

Nope, I don’t like to travel. I like to park it and party it where I land.

But, I’m running the roads now….

And I can’t wait to get there…..

Road Trip

I'm home. I've just survived a roadtrip. Georgia and I. She could care less that we survived it, doesn't even know that we might not have. Since she gets car sick, she spent the last 6 1/2 hours laying face down on the back seat panting and drooling on the "still smells like new car" upholstery. My two attempts to take out a brand new mustang (one red and one blue by the way) that landed her on the floorboard, we're just hiccups on her journey. Since she didn't SEE the two semi trucks toting GASOLINE stopped in the middle of the interstate, she didn't have that instantaneous flash of fear I did, as we almost drove over the little Ford Mustang in front of us. Neither did she see the 21 car collision, that by the way, I didn't see either, which is why I almost parked us in the trunk of the 2nd Mustang. But being a dog and all, she kinda felt my fear so for the 10 miles or so after each incident, she did what any best friend would do....She growled.

And then of course, there was the rain. The instantaneous flash flood that said "Hey, idiot, you've just entered Florida, the hurricane state" and sent all four wheels hydroplaning. That, by the way, feels somewhat like riding the Zipper at 17. Your stomach is suddenly swirling with a zillion butterflies, your otherwise perfectly manicured hands, are sweaty and clammy, and your'e gripping the steering wheel for sweet life. The semi truck next to you is a psychedelic blur. So I did exactly what I did on the Zipper. I closed my eyes! Gotta love the florida rain. It stopped.

And the sun came out. The blinding beautiful Florida Sun. I've been staring straight into her face for several lifetimes. That's why I have "frown lines". Yep, My mother always told me to wear sunglasses, a big hat and sunscreen. I didn't. I basked, baked, rolled in the sun. Face up. Frying. Summer blonde. The only difference now, is that I'm blind on a good day. Have to wear Readers to see anything. So driving into the deep south, on top of asphalt mirrored by blazing puddles from a summer hailstorm, with a banging hangover...is like looking into ...hell!

And speaking of hell, try traveling with Georgia. Oh, she travels well, I mean with her carsickness and all. She just doesn't STOP well. You see, she has "seperation anxiety". Which is akin to having a lover with stalking syndrome. From INSIDE the wayside station ladies room, where the toilets flush and the sinks run and the blowers puff on their own and it sounds like you are at an atomic energy plant, I could hear my precious Georgia May wailing, howling...pitifully yelping at the saliva smeared windows. Endlessly. I have never tinkled so fast in my life. Except in the woods.

But we're home. And we had a great time. And Paiger and I met just where we said we would. In Georgia. And we danced to David Bowie and Guns and Roses on the wrap around porch. And we laughed. And did what we always do, we cried. Because we can.

Because we're sisters.

Peace, love, and corner stores.....