My Sunday

 Our 1967 Cadillac Fleetwood.  They Don't Make them like this anymore

Sunday is the day of rest, and today we have done restful things, until a point.

On our way to Church we dropped our faithful retainer "Dolly" off at the Rapid stop so she could  visit her son who currently lives under "Restrictive conditions" in an establishment operated by Cuyahoga County.  Poor faithful Dolly. As she said once "I could retire but what would I do then?"  How true.

The sermon at Plymouth Church was accompanied by interpretive dance. I found it at once enlightening, and repulsive at the same time.  But bless the hearts of the little children!  Smiling faces and all that energy expended by trampling on the alter of Our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ Almighty.

After that desecration, Edwin and traveled to the home of Edwin's sister, Rosalind Smith-Standish Peyton in Hunting Valley, Ohio.  We found Rosalind in garden pointing at things that her gardener missed weeding during the week.  Edwin's sister made us a light lunch and we engaged in pleasant - light conversive topics.

On the way back home, Edwin asked if I could drive as he was feeling a bit out of sorts - out of step with nature.  You now, bloated and queasy.

So I got behind the wheel of our Fleetwood, and began the drive home.  When we came upon Mayfield Road, I slowed the vehicle and then applied the brakes to stop the Cadillac at the traffic light.  The normal traffic passed through, and the light changed.  Just as I was about to depress the accelerator - and out of nowhere - a dump truck came barreling through the intersection and shot through against the light.  Had I not paused to start our Cadillac we could have been flattened to bits!

And did that dump truck stop? No, he most certainly didn't.  That driver behind the wheel just kept up on his merry way.  So I made the left turn, and proceeded westward when Edwin looked up and said "What is that crazy son of a bitch doing now?"

Edwin was correct - verily, the truck was now gunning for us, backwards!

I steeled myself, and did a quick mathematical problem in my head (If a pillar of the community is driving her 1967 Cadillac Fleetwood Up Mayfield Road at 45mph, and speeding dump trucking is coming at said matron at an undetermined rate of speed, when will they slam into one and other?") and took the best course of action.  I gunned it, and then guided the car into the left hand lane.  The truck went whooooosh! right by us as I climbed the hill.

In reflection I wonder if that man behind the wheel of the truck had lost his breaks, which is the most reasonable explanation.  Still it is a reminder that one should watch where one is going, and to be prepared because assholes really are everywhere.

My very best,

Mrs. Edwin Smith-Standish