Summer Paving

My family and I go for a morning bike ride around the paths in our town.

Almost daily all summer.

Except for this year.

Because . . . rain.

So, as we were riding around this morning on the first ride of our summer (yes, you heard that right--first), I was reminded of something . . .

I invented the paving machine.

And I did it with the power of my mind.

Maybe I should explain . . .

In 1964-1965, our family moved to the great metropolis of Lethbridge.

My father was running two ranching operations at the time and he thought it would be easier from a central location.

So, for one glorious year, us kids discovered the joys--and differences--of city living.

Milk no longer had to be sought from the source, Bossy, but was delivered right to the door in handy-dandy little bottles.

Ditto cream, cheese, etc.

Weird-tasting water. Let’s face it, who in their right mind would choose chlorine over good old ranch sulphur?!

Riding the city bus.

Neighbours near enough to hear/see everything your family said/did.

Ahem...

And a whole new crop of friends.

It was a fun year.

Educational.

And over too soon.

Oddly enough, with all of this ‘new stuff’ what I struggled most with were the streets.

Yeah, I know. Strange.

The streets around our new house were gravel.

I was used to good old dirt.

Dirt that didn’t flip you and your bicycle sideways unexpectedly. Scraping flesh off of knees and legs and nether regions.

I learned to curse trying to stay upright in that gravel.

Okay, I will admit that said cursing consisted of ‘stupid gravel!’ and ‘Moooom!’, but that was getting out there. For me.

And then, the day I changed everything.

I was sitting on my bike on the sidewalk, having just pulled myself and said bike onto terra firma from the stupid, rotten (it had been a rough day) gravel street. I was glaring at said street.

Then, in my mind, I pictured a great machine that would simply drive across the treacherous coating of rocks and dirt and death, and coat it in a hard, delightfully smooth, totally bike-welcoming surface.

One a little friendlier to life and limb.

Imagine my surprise when, the very next day, such a machine was spotted one street over from mine.

DOING EXACTLY WHAT I HAD PICTURED IN MY MIND!!!

All of the kids in the neighbourhood pulled their bikes as close as possible to the behemoth and just watched.

It was a miracle!

As soon as the machine and the accompanying out-rollers had moved on, we were riding our bikes on the fabulous new, delightfully smooth road.

I can still remember the heat rising up from the black surface.

The machine continued around the block until it had completely covered all of the streets with the same impermeable, biking-conducive material.

Paradise!

I know you’ve probably witnessed the same miracle yourself.

So, when you are driving on smooth, seamless roads.

You can thank me.

Send money . . .