I couldn’t get my brother on the phone so, “Shoot Fire, I’ll walk,” I said to myself. “This is Douglas and someone will recognize me and will pick me up before I can get very far,” I said as I left the auto dealership.
Famous last words I began to think as I tried to cross 441 in front of Wendy’s. If it had not been for those cones recently placed in the median I would have been road kill as the motorists paid no heed to a 235 pound man trying to cross the road.
Ken Vickers
Walk - Don’t Walk
When I finally made it to the other side I thought about the time I tried to cross 8 lanes in Houston on foot. I had the light and the sign said walk but I soon realized that didn’t mean a dern thing. I had to run like a scared wild turkey because pedestrians are less popular there than here.
“Lord, I can walk a little piece,” I thought, as I sashayed down 206 North. I held my head high as I headed for Hwy 158, exhilarated by the memory of walking home from Douglas one night in 1961. In my mind I was fifteen again.
I made it to the side entrance of the middle school and was about to walk across it when a car squealed in and ran over the toe of one shoe because I wasn’t quick enough to get both feet out of the way. The driver never slowed down and I thought, “Lord, what has happened to people that they do not pay any heed to a pedestrian.”
I got going again and was walking on the side bicycle lane when a car came by and the side mirror snibbed me on the wrist. It didn’t break any bones but it scared three years off my life and I lost a wrist watch in the process. The heavyset lady driver didn’t stop.
It is hard for a man with a bad hip to walk sideways but I was doing my best to accomplish this task because now I was scared to turn my back on the traffic. I was thinking that some nut would probably try to take me out for being dumb enough to be walking. Sure enough, another car swerved as if to hit me, the young male driver sneering at me and giving me the finger. I stumbled backward down into the ditch, the tall Bahia grass grabbing my shoes and making me fall. ‘Lord God. Has the world gone crazy? People are nuts,” I thought, as I peeped out of the grass, unsure whether to get up or not for fear someone else would take a swipe at me. I was beginning to wonder if I was in Douglas, the Friendly City, or if I was dreaming and in a bad episode of The Twilight Zone.
I finally got up and started walking but I stayed in the grass. The grass seed soon filled my shoes and made walking a torment as I trudged along but there was no way I was getting back on the pavement.
I was beginning to feel miserable as both my knees and hips were starting to cry out for medication. Then a Good Samaritan in the form of Wayne Smith saw me and, bless his heart, turned around and picked me up. “What in the world are you doing? Don’t you know you’ll get run over out here?”
I explained that my car was in the shop and I was trying to get to Hwy 158 where I could get a ride heading toward my home.
He would have it no other way but take me all the way home and I was not about to argue as I was just about frazzled.
I will not have to be told next time that walking is out of style and if no one can come and pick me up from wherever, I will be prepared to spend the night.
I owe you one, Wayne.
“Lord, I can walk a little piece,” I thought, as I sashayed down 206 North. I held my head high as I headed for Hwy 158, exhilarated by the memory of walking home from Douglas one night in 1961. In my mind I was fifteen again.
I made it to the side entrance of the middle school and was about to walk across it when a car squealed in and ran over the toe of one shoe because I wasn’t quick enough to get both feet out of the way. The driver never slowed down and I thought, “Lord, what has happened to people that they do not pay any heed to a pedestrian.”
I got going again and was walking on the side bicycle lane when a car came by and the side mirror snibbed me on the wrist. It didn’t break any bones but it scared three years off my life and I lost a wrist watch in the process. The heavyset lady driver didn’t stop.
It is hard for a man with a bad hip to walk sideways but I was doing my best to accomplish this task because now I was scared to turn my back on the traffic. I was thinking that some nut would probably try to take me out for being dumb enough to be walking. Sure enough, another car swerved as if to hit me, the young male driver sneering at me and giving me the finger. I stumbled backward down into the ditch, the tall Bahia grass grabbing my shoes and making me fall. ‘Lord God. Has the world gone crazy? People are nuts,” I thought, as I peeped out of the grass, unsure whether to get up or not for fear someone else would take a swipe at me. I was beginning to wonder if I was in Douglas, the Friendly City, or if I was dreaming and in a bad episode of The Twilight Zone.
I finally got up and started walking but I stayed in the grass. The grass seed soon filled my shoes and made walking a torment as I trudged along but there was no way I was getting back on the pavement.
I was beginning to feel miserable as both my knees and hips were starting to cry out for medication. Then a Good Samaritan in the form of Wayne Smith saw me and, bless his heart, turned around and picked me up. “What in the world are you doing? Don’t you know you’ll get run over out here?”
I explained that my car was in the shop and I was trying to get to Hwy 158 where I could get a ride heading toward my home.
He would have it no other way but take me all the way home and I was not about to argue as I was just about frazzled.
I will not have to be told next time that walking is out of style and if no one can come and pick me up from wherever, I will be prepared to spend the night.
I owe you one, Wayne.
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