47. A whiff of adventure (1)
If you are a regular reader of my blog you will know that my husband has had plenty of time during lockdown to think about new hobbies. He was on his own in the office with only the mail to sort out - and there was little of it. So he dreamed up this wonderful idea of buying an old car or bike that he would spend time doing up and the two of us would go cruising on some country road. I think he thought lockdown was going to last for years and he needed an escape route.
I did not pay much attention to this. I simply told him that I did not like sitting on the back of the bike that much (one day I might tell you about my last ride on a fast bike), that I did not want to go shopping for fringed leather jackets and that I was not really into mechanics. I preferred drawing. And I felt like adding blog-writing. But I did not.
He did not pay much attention to this either.
This was lockdown, remember, and everything was a bit fuzzy.
The days dragged on. Things were getting even fuzzier and I forgot about all this. I thought he had forgotten about it too. Then as life was slowly returning to normal, I got busy. He did too, leaving for work earlier and coming home a little later each day.
Then just the other day, as I was reading my mails I noticed there was one from my husband. I thought he'd booked a service for our family car or that it was spam, maybe some advertising. I wondered about it for a split second and then binned it.
At lunchtime I got a text message:
'Do you like it?'
Did I like what? I was puzzled. Curiosity got the better of me. Also I did not want to look like I had missed on something important so I got the mail out of the bin.
That was when I remembered the discussion and wished I had paid more attention. I opened the mail feeling a little anxious and expecting to see photos of a man with long hair and beard and a woman with a fringed leather jacket sitting on a massive Harley Davidson. I secretly hoped the thing (i.e. the huge bike) was not sitting somewhere which a huge ribbon wrapped around it. After all, mother's day was coming up.
There were pictures. Not of a bike. But of a car. A type of car that brought back plenty of good memories, of us as a couple and as a family too.
I picked up the phone.
'What's that?'
'Do you like it? It's nice, isn't it?' He sounded enthusiastic.
'Are you serious?'
'Yes. Only if you like it though. I thought about it. You're not really into bikes and this way we can both enjoy it.'
'But ... I do not like mechanics! I do not want to sit in a cold garage and fiddle with the engine ... And ... anyway we do not even have a garage!'
'Don't worry! You won't have to. It's reconditioned.' (That word did scare me a little.) ... Check it out. We'll have a chat about it when I get home. It's going for a good price because of this crisis thing.'
I promised myself to pay attention this time. And started dreaming about endless sand dunes under blue skies and me behind the wheel driving off into the distance, with not a single arrow to force me into any direction I did not want to follow, doing 'la marche en avant' for real!
I went straight back to my mail box.
I did not pay much attention to this. I simply told him that I did not like sitting on the back of the bike that much (one day I might tell you about my last ride on a fast bike), that I did not want to go shopping for fringed leather jackets and that I was not really into mechanics. I preferred drawing. And I felt like adding blog-writing. But I did not.
He did not pay much attention to this either.
This was lockdown, remember, and everything was a bit fuzzy.
The days dragged on. Things were getting even fuzzier and I forgot about all this. I thought he had forgotten about it too. Then as life was slowly returning to normal, I got busy. He did too, leaving for work earlier and coming home a little later each day.
Then just the other day, as I was reading my mails I noticed there was one from my husband. I thought he'd booked a service for our family car or that it was spam, maybe some advertising. I wondered about it for a split second and then binned it.
At lunchtime I got a text message:
'Do you like it?'
Did I like what? I was puzzled. Curiosity got the better of me. Also I did not want to look like I had missed on something important so I got the mail out of the bin.
That was when I remembered the discussion and wished I had paid more attention. I opened the mail feeling a little anxious and expecting to see photos of a man with long hair and beard and a woman with a fringed leather jacket sitting on a massive Harley Davidson. I secretly hoped the thing (i.e. the huge bike) was not sitting somewhere which a huge ribbon wrapped around it. After all, mother's day was coming up.
There were pictures. Not of a bike. But of a car. A type of car that brought back plenty of good memories, of us as a couple and as a family too.
I picked up the phone.
'What's that?'
'Do you like it? It's nice, isn't it?' He sounded enthusiastic.
'Are you serious?'
'Yes. Only if you like it though. I thought about it. You're not really into bikes and this way we can both enjoy it.'
'But ... I do not like mechanics! I do not want to sit in a cold garage and fiddle with the engine ... And ... anyway we do not even have a garage!'
'Don't worry! You won't have to. It's reconditioned.' (That word did scare me a little.) ... Check it out. We'll have a chat about it when I get home. It's going for a good price because of this crisis thing.'
I promised myself to pay attention this time. And started dreaming about endless sand dunes under blue skies and me behind the wheel driving off into the distance, with not a single arrow to force me into any direction I did not want to follow, doing 'la marche en avant' for real!
I went straight back to my mail box.
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