If you look at every day as an adventure, you’ll never get bored.
I used to talk to my kids about this.
Every trip, no matter where, was a grand adventure.
We explored, discovered, yelled, sang and screamed.
I imagine we looked like a truck full of lunatics.
Except, we had fun.
They are off on their own adventures now.
I hope there is still singing and screaming, but when I’m in the car, they are a little more subdued.
Probably mad at my screams of terror from the back seat.
Not so much back seat driving as back seat punching a hole through the floorboard braking.
Or pretending to.
This week was full of adventure.
Most of them accidental.
Wednesday was cold and breezy and we had our first scrimmage of the year.
I couldn’t feel my ears or toes or nose, despite four layers of clothes.
The ballpark has a unique geographic advantage of being about fifty degrees colder than any where else.
Frozen toes-es and nose-es meant heater on high for the drive home.
It’s a twenty minute ride, almost all Interstate.
There is a stretch of straightaway that runs in front of a big giant church, then hangs a left up a steep hill before running north.
The car, heat on high, speedometer pegged out at seventy-five, chugged as we passed the church.
It lurched as we hit the hill.
The computer went nuts, shooting out codes and signals for emergency and disaster.
The gear box was off line, the solenoid wasn’t reading, the shifter was broken.
And then it stopped running.
The engine didn’t shut down, so much as there was no thrust.
No go.
Every tried coasting up a hill, over an over pass, and praying for the shoulder a hundred yards away while traffic whizzes around you at ninety miles an hour?
It’s worse when the passengers are screaming at you cause they want answers as to what’s happening, why it’s happening, how not to be afraid in the middle of breaking down on the side of the highway.
These things seem worse in the dark.
Side of the road, cars, and trucks and diesels riding pell mell like they were being chased by demons.
We were a quarter mile from an exit, and the car wouldn’t do anything.
Which reminds me why I like straight six engines from the early eighties, before they computerized everything.
Because in the cold light of day, it was a simple computer reset.
Turns out, the high heat, and speed, combined with low fuel and the angle of the hill caused the fuel pump sensor to switch off.
Pretty common in this type of auto, we learned after a deep dive on Google.
Easy to avoid if you don’t go below a quarter of a tank.
The guy who reset the tripped computer told us, “you didn’t run out of gas, but your car thought you did.”
Sigh.
Why is my car even thinking and what the hell was it thinking?
It’s only going to get worse. Or better, I mean.
Robotic cars. Sensors. GPS.
They’ll all talk to each other so that when one car pulls off to the side of the dark road, the others will adjust speed and move to one side.
A synchronized robotic ballet of safety and movement.
No need to rely on drivers who think that a ¼ tank of fuel is enough to go 7 more miles to the gas station on the road to the house.
Adventures.
They are exactly where you find them, and sometimes, they are dangerous. (Ask the guy who gave up skydiving because of a metal bone.)
This weekend’s foray?
Ball on Sunday and a big pull for the boys. It’s supposed to be hot, which is a good time to curl up with an book, and play out adventures in the mind.
That way, no one can hear you scream.
Start your adventure with:
Witchmas - The Marshal of Magic Boxset
Battlefield Z - The Complete adventures giant boxset
The Round Up - a Massive Western Adventure Collection
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Echo and Ember: A Paranormal Murder Mystery (NightShade Forensic FBI Files Book 4) FREE
Lost Chances: A Paranormal P.I. Mystery Thriller (The Redstone Chronicles Book 3) FREE
Silent Order: Omnibus One FREE
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