Communion Of Dreams


So, what happened was . . .
August 30, 2010, 5:31 pm
Filed under: Architecture, Art

Never underestimate the power of art to distract.

I just sat down to have a drink and relax from working on those Russian maps this afternoon, having just gotten back to that. When I hear the front door slam shut, and Martha hollering at someone.

Hmm.

I set my drink down, got up, and went to investigate. There was a white car in the driveway, going around the front circle in the reverse manner from which most people do it. Martha was on the far side of the car, looking down, shouting instructions to the driver.

I went out, down the steps, and joined her. It was obvious in a glance what had happened: the driver had gotten off the gravel driveway, and into the grass in the center of the circle, in the process driving over one of the large (about 14″ on a side cube) limestone blocks and snagging his car. He was quite stuck.

“I’m *so* sorry!” he said as he got out of the car. “I was looking at the house . . . ”

‘. . . and wasn’t paying attention to your driving.’ I thought to myself.

Well, these things happen. I got down on my knees and investigated the details of the situation. The rock was wedged under what passes for a frame on a modern car.

“It’ll have to be jacked up,” said Martha. She understands these things. Just one of the reasons I love my wife.

“Have you got a real jack?” I asked the guy, as he started to open the trunk.

“Um, no, just the little one for changing tires.”

“OK, let me go get mine.” I went and grabbed my hydraulic floor jack and a thick piece of plywood to stop the jack from just sinking into the ground. I came back, positioned the plywood, then slid the jack into place. In just a couple of moments I had the car high enough to clear the rock. We got it out of the way.

“Gosh, I’m sorry for the damage to the grass.”

“It’ll grow back, no worries,” I replied.

“I was wanting to get a picture,” said the guy, pulling out a nice photo of a stairwell out of the back of his car to show us. “This is what I do.”

“Nice,” said Martha and I.

“Sorry about the grass.”

“Don’t worry about it. But you might want to pay attention to how your car handles for a bit,” I said.

“I’ve got insurance. But I’m not sure they’d believe this.”

‘I am,’ I thought as he drove away.

Jim Downey


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