When we go to the lake, my job is simple but important. After the watercraft is lowered into the murky but joyful Oklahoma shallows, I am responsible for driving the truck and trailer up and out of the water and then parking it over in a nearby parking lot. Then I just have to descend the concrete ramps to the dock, where Handsome is waiting dutifully for me to join him.
Sounds simple, eh?
Never mind how fraught with danger the drive itself might be, what with the pivoting trailer axle and all; what vexes me is the quarter-mile walk after parking.
I walk plenty o' miles every day on the farm, but not really FAST. If I was a race car, I could cover that quarter mile in like eight to ten seconds. And I might be driven by Vin Diesel. But that is totally different...
But I am NOT a ten-second car living life a quarter mile at a time. I am just a girl. Just a girl in flip flops. Just a girl in flip flops and a bulky life jacket battling the elements. Trying to walk not only slowly but also toe-to-heel in order to reduce jiggle.
Supposedly this works, giving the illusion of walking on properly girlish high heels. But the truth is that doing so greatly diminishes your pedestrian dexterity. What you might gain in "firmness" you definitely lose in grace.
And an already mossy concrete ramp is a terrible place to be not graceful. I promise you that being caught in this situation while in lake attire is humbling.
So the short walk from truck to dock turns into a desperate evaluation of my fitness plan. And suddenly, between dodging those concerned glances from other boat loading Okies, I am thinking a lot less about zooming over the choppy water with Handsome and more about how to improve my situation before our next lake jaunt. Pitiful. Waste of sunshine.
Happily, the water racing is so dang much fun that the Longest Walk is quickly forgotten. Within minutes I am aboard, screaming and guffawing while we chase other people's wakes and make plenty of our own. I have at least a few days to make the next Longest Walk a little shorter.
The End.
Supposedly this works, giving the illusion of walking on properly girlish high heels. But the truth is that doing so greatly diminishes your pedestrian dexterity. What you might gain in "firmness" you definitely lose in grace.
And an already mossy concrete ramp is a terrible place to be not graceful. I promise you that being caught in this situation while in lake attire is humbling.
So the short walk from truck to dock turns into a desperate evaluation of my fitness plan. And suddenly, between dodging those concerned glances from other boat loading Okies, I am thinking a lot less about zooming over the choppy water with Handsome and more about how to improve my situation before our next lake jaunt. Pitiful. Waste of sunshine.
Happily, the water racing is so dang much fun that the Longest Walk is quickly forgotten. Within minutes I am aboard, screaming and guffawing while we chase other people's wakes and make plenty of our own. I have at least a few days to make the next Longest Walk a little shorter.
The End.
well, at least it ended well. But nothing like a good walk to get your mind racing with all sorts of things.
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