My son called and said that he was working on solid ground, right in the Marina. “Come on down and watch for a bit. It’s a beautiful day.”
My son usually works inside a crane, on a barge, in the middle of the ocean. The few times I have sat on the shore watching him work I have had to swallow a mother’s fear. He tells me he feels no fear. It has something to do with what he calls, “that bubble in my butt”.
He spent a year at a training center learning to understand and identify that bubble. I have to respect that. But the ’bubble’ that I feel when I sit and watch some of the feats he accomplishes in deep water is of fear, right in the middle of my chest.
The beach, the boats, the sunshine, the smell, the cool breeze, and my son sitting in a crane on a safe, solid surface were all tantalizing images. There wasn’t any way that my restless spirit could turn down such a lovely invitation.
My grandson is feeling his way around opportunities for adulthood so he decided to go with me. His curiosity was piqued at what his father could possibly be doing at the Marina, notwithstanding the fact that babes in bikinis are all over the place down there.
On our way we stopped and bought large, ice filled cokes for my son and his work-mates.
When we arrived we found a perfect parking spot ... right in front of the dis-assembled crane. We could watch the men working and the girls flirting as they floated by. The Marina has a lovely stretch of grass and trees. We were in the shade one of the trees. I could feel the breeze on my skin. I could smell the sunshine and the ocean. I could see the fun my son was having bantering and laughing with his co-workers as they calculated the exact spot that the boom had to be placed. My restless spirit was quiet. I was totally at peace.
My grandson took the cold drinks over to his father. It looked for all the world to me as if they were having a nice father and son moment. They were pointing and laughing. I thought they had probably seen a beautiful girl in a little bikini and were sharing some male appreciation. Then my son walked over to me ...
“Do you have the time to stick around for a bit. I’ve arranged for Mike to have a ride in that.” I turned and looked in the direction he was pointing. My eyes couldn’t believe what I saw. My grandson was going to get a ride in THAT?! ‘THAT’ was the most exciting thing I have ever seen on wheels. It was bright orange. The surface gleamed so bright that the sun boomeranged off of it’s surface. It was long and low. It was shaped for speed. It was a motorcycle. It was a car. It was a combination of the two. It was created specifically to ignite my imagination. It was a 2005 Campagna T-Rex, ‘a tube-framed three wheeled vehicle‘.
The Pennie that had never had polio came surging to the surface. The ‘What If’ Pennie, my alter ego. She was the woman that dressed in tight black leather pants, high heeled black boots, a black leather jacket with shiny silver studs, a jaunty black hat titled on her head, and had long flowing, curly hair that blew in the wind. She saw that T-Rex and knew that ’she’ was the one that should be given a ride. Ride? Hell, she should be driving that wonderful piece of machinery. She wanted to feel that surge of power under her body. She would just walk over to that car, flick her long hair to show indifference, cock a hip, reach out and claim the keys as her own. All the men would stand there with jealousy in their eyes as they watched her slip into the drivers seat. She would turn the key in the ignition and fill the air with the noise of that powerful engine. The men would back away in awe of her ability. She would own the highway ... cars would pull to the side to let her pass. She would travel new horizons ... feeling the wind and the power! She would ride that machine until it was tamed by HER power!
“Pennie are you alright?” “Pennie where are you?” my grandson's voice burst into my reverie.
“I was day dreaming about driving that machine,” I answered.
And as he laughed the laugh of a grandson, his grandmother thought “I think I just experienced ’that bubble in my butt’ my son always talks about.