Buckley

 

“Oh…this isn’t going to work….” Crestfallen, LS gazed down at the huge round bulge in her big black bag mounted on the side of the bike. I couldn’t really see what she was talking about. It just looked like her bike bag. But when she tried to walk the bike a tiny bit in the street, it wobbled.

            We were standing outside the Richmond Swim Center after a horrendously crowded swim. I actually had to circle swim (swimmers will know what I mean; non-swimmers don’t need to know what this is other than it is something heinously undesirable.) And, I had to share the lane with The Creep! Fortunately, the third swimmer was The Nice Man, which is why I chose the lane in the first place. I knew he’d know how to circle swim.

            Oh, this isn’t really important to the story other than to let you know I was exhausted and a bit cranky after navigating the crowded pool for an hour.

            Now as I watched LS try to shift the round weight around in her bike bag to keep herself from toppling over once she got on the bike, I wondered how I could help.

“I don’t think Z understood how getting the watermelon home on the bike was going to be a challenge.” LS sighed softly, shaking her head.

 How did she end up with a watermelon at the pool you might ask? Z, another swimmer, had brought it to the pool and given it to LS. Which was very nice. But, now transport home was a dilemma.

            “Maybe you can put the watermelon in the Fiat and I can keep it for you till tomorrow. You could bring your truck then.”

            “That’s not going to work I don’t think….” Her voice trailed off.

            “I would just give you a ride home but I really have to work this afternoon.”

            “Oh, no, that’s okay. I understand. I’ll figure something out.”

            But we both just continued to stand there staring at her bike bag, stymied by a watermelon.

                        Then, I thought to myself, what the hell. I have till 5 pm to get the work done. It’s only 12:30 or so now. I could help!

            “Let’s just put the watermelon in the Fiat and I’ll drive it to your house,” I offered.

            “Oh, no….really?”
            “Sure, it won’t take long. Besides it’s a good story! Wish I could put you in the Fiat too but you have your bike.”

            “Oh, that’s okay.”

            “Let’s put it on the floor behind the driver’s seat,” I suggested.

            I attempted to push the seat forward. But it was stuck. When was the last time I’d put anything in the back? I couldn’t even remember.

            “Ummm…. okay, I know, let’s just put it on the seat of the passenger side.”

            “Great!” LS lifted the huge heavy dark green fruit out of her bike bag and put it on the front seat next to me.

            “Okay, I’ll just meet you at your house,” I called out as she got on her bike and I pulled out into the street.

 

            Driving down Potrero toward LS’s house in El Cerrito the car alert alarm suddenly went off. You know the sound the car makes when there’s something wrong. I checked my rearview mirror. Had I left the trunk open? I saw no evidence of this. I looked down at my gauges. Was I in Drive? (The other day, I think because of my broken wrist, I hadn’t gotten the car into gear and it has started beeping at me.) But today, I’m in Drive. Was the car overheating? I glanced down at the heat gauges. Nope. All seemed fine.

            As the signal changed, the car stopped beeping. Okay, maybe just a false alarm. But I was nervous now.

            What was wrong with my car?

            Maybe there was an issue with the car and I shouldn’t be driving a watermelon to El Cerrito!

            As I crossed San Pablo, the alarm went off again.

            Damn!

            I drove up a block and pulled over.  What was wrong?

            I glanced over at the watermelon, calmly reposing in the passenger seat. And then it hit me! The watermelon was so heavy that it had set off the seatbelt alert.

            I needed to buckle it in!

            Laughing, I reached around my ‘passenger’ to grab the seatbelt, then pulled it over and snapped in on.

            “There you go! We’re safe now!” I announced. The watermelon looked snug all buckled in.

            I headed down Potrero and made the left on Liberty. The alarm was silent.

            I continued to laugh to myself the 3 or 4 blocks down Liberty till I pulled up in front of LS’s house. Got out of the car and glanced down the street. Here she was, coming up on her bike. Good timing!

            When she got to her house, she walked her bike into the back, as I was bursting to tell her the story of the watermelon setting off the seatbelt sensor alarm.

            She cracked up. Of course. It was a hilarious story. “We should name it!” she suggested.

            As I unbuckled the watermelon, she reached in to retrieve it. “How about Buckley?” I offered.

            “Perfect!” she said, asking me if I wanted to come in for a slice.

            But now I had to go. Work called. But Buckley was home. The Fiat wasn’t broken. And I had plenty of time to do my work.

          In the end,  it had all worked out. Whew! 

         

Stronger?

 

"What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.” I think the platitude was meant to ally my complaining about the cold. She even agreed, saying how it was so cold out. Nodding, I joke that it was the middle of August for chrissakes!

As I try to keep my teeth from chattering, I laugh, trying to keep a sense of humor about it. But I am so goddamn cold! The Plunge Pool is always cold, and frankly, I don’t need it. My entire body is shivering. My fingers are little white frozen popsicles. My brain is cranky!

She heads out of the locker-room into the Cold Zone. I wish her luck.

And then think, is it true? That what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger?

Not that I think I’m going to die from swimming at the Plunge, but I am miserable.

Does that make me stronger?

I think not.

I think it just makes me more frail, less robust.

Like my broken wrist this summer. Okay, honestly, there was one point in the emergency room where they had given me some heavy-duty painkillers and then wheeled me to a dark room. On the way, all I saw in my brain were florescent bright images of lime, lemon, and orange coral.

I thought I was dying.

Of course, I wasn’t. Yet, did this belief that I thought I was leaving the planet, and then surviving it, make me stronger?

Maybe. I know that if I hallucinate florescent coral reefs again that I’m not dying. That could be a help in the future if I go through this again.

Which I hope I don’t!

But another part of me is filled with fear and anxiety. I don’t want to go through another bone break. I am afraid of falling again. I walk with trepidation. I move my wrist with ginger care.

It’s not an attitude of strength.

Yet, are there other times where I thought I was going to die and then I reemerged stronger?

The ambulance ride to the Loretta Krankenhaus in Bavaria when I was sure the pain would kill me. It came out of nowhere. A lightning bolt of agony. A doctor came to my bed. Gave me a horse needle full of painkiller.

I survived.

Was I stronger? Perhaps. Years later I can look back on that experience and realize that I am a survivor. I have, at this point in my life, survived cancer and surgeries and other near misses. (Haven’t we all been driving on the freeway when a zooming car comes out of nowhere, cuts us off, and we have to hold our breath and hope they don’t crash?)

So, today, when Linda platitudes me, I have to smile and shrug. In a way, she’s right. After all, I’m still here.

But still. I think the Plunge could turn up the heat! Just a little. For Chrissakes, it is the middle of August!