A well-timed phrase can stimulate my writing process. This often happens for me in the Meetinghouse newspaper feature. “In the Driver’s Seat” is a good example.

Lately I have felt out of the driver’s position. For medical, travel, etc., reasons I have been on the receiving end of others’ kindness. Little victories have had to be celebrated. Recently when I reached the “facilities” on a recent crowded air flight, the attendant even congratulated me. Perhaps I should have felt offended, but I took it in stride.

Likewise, I was attentive when someone told me about a dream he had, where I made an interesting appearance. (How often do we get chances like this?)

You see, I was in a room crowded full of bicyclists; all in motion. Needless to say there was no social distancing, nor much of any kind of caution. Each oblivious of the other, we were strutting our stuff; doing wheelies, laying rubber of different diameters. Also, I had a new model to show off. It was especially designed for us seniors, but nonetheless a two-wheeler with a saddle.

Next thing we knew, as he told it, I was excusing myself; it was time to leave. What just happened? Where were the figure eights? Where was the bicycle at all? There had just been so much going on.

Our hasty departure took us, me sheepishly, past an array of broken-down bikes, uh, including mine. It was car wreck without the car. “Didn’t see that coming.” Well, for a time, I had been back in the driver’s seat.

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