Friday, December 14, 2012
When we were to meet for lunch, he was always late; not enough to be mad about, but just enough to be annoying. When the light turned green, he’d always pause before accelerating, but not long enough for the car behind to honk his horn – just long enough to annoy an observant passenger. We’d been on a trip together for a day, and I couldn’t resist bringing up the subject. “Pilcrow,” I said, “you are living an indented life. Do you realize that?” He chuckled. “Because of my own," he replied, "I’ve been a student of given names for years, and I know exactly what you mean.”
Anyway – The first time I touched this scooter I put my hands on the handlebars where the darkened patina testifies that some little boy’s hands have grabbed it in the same way over a long period of time. As I stood beside it, looking down on its streamlined shape from above, I lifted my right leg and placed my foot on the non-slip rubber mat. That’s when my friend saved my life. He was only a couple feet away, so I heard him clearly when he spoke those four words, almost under his breath, “I wouldn’t do that.”
