Garbage Detail
Dec. 27th, 2004 03:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stoutfellowMy father lives in a small, quiet neighborhood, maybe a couple of dozen residences situated along a private ring road (very low-traffic, for which, as shall be seen, I am devoutly grateful). There's a manager, a communal pool, a communal dumpster, and like that.
This morning, I volunteered to take the garbage out. Dad suggested that I use his bike, pointing out that there was already a bagful of garbage in the basket. ("You do know how to ride a bike, don't you?" Yes, Dad, you were there about thirty-nine years ago, when I spent several afternoons crashing into the fence along the driveway until I got the hang of it...) He failed to mention a few things.
a) It wasn't a bike, strictly speaking, but an adult trike, which handles rather differently than a bike. In particular, the steering is a little less responsive. This was compounded by the fact that
b) The front tire was nearly flat. As a consequence,
c) The thing pulled hard to the left.
Swelp me, I drove that thing like I was drunk. I could not keep the trike on a straight line, much less the gentle rightward curve of the path to the dumpster. By the third time I nearly crashed into the left-hand curb (having gotten only halfway to the dumpster), I had attracted the attention of the manager. I managed to persuade him that I was harmless (and not, say, a trike-cum-trash thief). But I walked it the rest of the way.
Dad, by the way, was utterly unapologetic about the things he had failed to mention...
This morning, I volunteered to take the garbage out. Dad suggested that I use his bike, pointing out that there was already a bagful of garbage in the basket. ("You do know how to ride a bike, don't you?" Yes, Dad, you were there about thirty-nine years ago, when I spent several afternoons crashing into the fence along the driveway until I got the hang of it...) He failed to mention a few things.
a) It wasn't a bike, strictly speaking, but an adult trike, which handles rather differently than a bike. In particular, the steering is a little less responsive. This was compounded by the fact that
b) The front tire was nearly flat. As a consequence,
c) The thing pulled hard to the left.
Swelp me, I drove that thing like I was drunk. I could not keep the trike on a straight line, much less the gentle rightward curve of the path to the dumpster. By the third time I nearly crashed into the left-hand curb (having gotten only halfway to the dumpster), I had attracted the attention of the manager. I managed to persuade him that I was harmless (and not, say, a trike-cum-trash thief). But I walked it the rest of the way.
Dad, by the way, was utterly unapologetic about the things he had failed to mention...
