White Lines...

A few years ago, when Ruth was a Nanny in Venice, she and her seven-year-old charge were driving to the grocery store comfortably tucked into her little white Prius. At the same time, they both spotted a man peddling along in the bike lane, just up ahead. He looked like a Spandex wrapped carnival ride on his three-wheel recumbent bike, his spinning flags flapping rainbow colors as nylon ribbons waved and twisted in the wind behind him. Multiple reflectors splattered dancing lights in his wake, a rolling mirror ball encircled by a rapidly shifting Pollock canvas.  You certainly couldn’t miss him, and, of course, that was the point,

Ruth said to her wide-eyed passenger: “My Dad has a bike just like that. He rides it all over the place in St Augustine, where I grew up. He has lots of stuff on his bike too.  Lights, horns, flags, all kinds of gear. I’ll bet he could live for a week on that thing, given all the junk he carries in the black bag like that guy has.”

The boy took it all in, studying the circus bike rider as they carefully swerved to avoid crowding him as he veered over the white line of his lane.

Silent, lost in thought for another mile, considering his first encounter with a three wheeled biker outfitted like a one-man band, he finally asked Ruth: “Well, do you laugh at him?”

Ruth paused only briefly before she admitted: “Well yes, as a matter of fact, Yes, yes we do!”

Satisfied that laughter was the only appropriate response when spotting such a highly adorned and obviously clown-like three wheeled display, he sat back quietly until they pulled into the Sam’s Club parking lot. Suddenly coming alive again, he began to mentally run down the isles he was planning to plunder as Ruth parked the car neatly between the white lines.

Heading toward the double glass doors sluggishly opening and closing under the “Sam’s Club” marquee while shoppers were swallowed up and spit out again, the boy took a quick glance back over his shoulder at their car, approving of the fact that it was parked properly, centered perfectly between the white lines... as everything in life should be, he thought to himself.