Shakesthegrounds Rumblings

[Jeff Wrangler]

Oh yeah!
My Dads side is from up there.
He was born in Upper Darby. My Uncles and cousins lived in Philly for years.
I used to go all the time as a kid. That where my Cousin Andy was killed.
My Grandparents live in Ocean City New Jersey in the Summer so I fly in to Philly and drive over when I come to Visit.

Well, next time you'll just have to come up a day early so we can visit a spell! 

[loneleeb3]

Well, next time you'll just have to come up a day early so we can visit a spell! 

I will. Hopefully next summer.
They usually go up in May and leave in October.

[Shakesthecoffecan]

You know, it is a real small world, I wouldn;t doubt we have all crossed one anothers paths before.

Ah, listen to that rain on the roof. I am gone sleep good tonight.

[Jeff Wrangler]

You know, it is a real small world, I wouldn;t doubt we have all crossed one anothers paths before.

Ah, listen to that rain on the roof. I am gone sleep good tonight.

That's always a pleasant sound when you're snuggled down in bed. 

[Shakesthecoffecan]

It is raining still this morning. Driving the yellow and brown leaves off the trees. I can hear it in the tires on the road passing, like a constant back ground noise. It is still warm enough to sleep with the windows open. Sleep I did, and dream too.

I was in a crowd of people waiting for a street race, all being help back by yellow police tape. In the crowd I could see faces I recognized but was unable to reach them.

I know what the dream means. Today I have to make a firm descision about going to Pennsylvania on Friday. It is my friend Brian's birthdya and he has been wanting me to come to visit. I know it will be alright, but I am so weary. Have travelled so much. Will have to make arrangement, will have to let down other people and their expectations. Why do I always leave this for the last minute?

Why don't I just crawl back in bed and go back to sleep? Well for one thing because I have to buy a new tire this morning, I picked up a screw drive bit last night carrying the trash to the dump. I got the spare on but the trash is still in the trunk because the dump closes at 7. I get paranoid I am pushing my luck too far, like something worse is just around the corner. As I think that it rains harder. Life becomes another job, another obligation. I will go  put the coffee on now. 

Behind the yellow police tape the crowd rises to its feet, and the silver bullet wizzes by at the speed limit. Chairs are folded, and everyone goes home.

[Shakesthecoffecan]

Once I get there I start to enjoy it.

Charles has his tire business in the basement of a small strip mall he build and never even put windows and doors in. I pull up in the bay and get out, say hello to everone and get my punctured tire out of the trunk.

Charles is a Christian, and of all the ones I have ever met I would have to say I have never met a more Christlike person. He preaches in a church, does his witnessing by example, refers to his business as a ministry and is always carrying on a bunch of mess. In fact, his entourage (3 of them today) are the most touchy-feely bunch of men I have ever seen outside of a gay bar. It is a joy to watch them kid and carry on and come grab each other by the neck and attempt a head lock.

One of the three, Bob, is always there. He is probably in his 60s and shaped like a pare. He is a permanent fixture, always sitting in a wooden chair and will masage the necks and shoulders of the other guys occasionally. I resist the temptation to think it is weird. It is wonderful in its own way. They include me in their bantering by saying "This man's waiting for his car" I assure them I can wait.

Two of the guys go out in the drizzle to fetch tires, one rolls them across the parking lot like he would throw a bowling ball and the othern stops it with the heal of his boot. I remember the scene, and my mind goes back 35 years to my fathers tire business.

Daddy recapped tires, you could bring your old tires in and then would strip off all the old tread and wrap them in rubber and put them in molds and let them bake. My job when I was about 8 or 9 was to put them on a spinner and by hand slice the nubs off. It was nasty, it was dark and old and decrepit and I loved it. I loved going next door to the former furniture store where the new tires were stored, stacks and stacks and stacks of them  and the whole place rank with the smell of new rubber. Nothing in this world like it. I would climb up those stacks and lower myself down inside the tubes, the lips making a latter for me. I could crawl inside the big tractor tires and my Daddy would yell at me to get the hell out of there.

These fellas would not even say the word.

[CellarDweller]

they sound like some cool guys!

[Shakesthecoffecan]

I'll see if I can;t get a picture of them one day. 

[Shakesthecoffecan]

We are no under a flash flood watch! I am so happy!

The yards of dead grass hold large puddles of water gradually seeping into the adobe that is the earth. The culverts fill and drain and fill again, and the rain alternates betwixt the driving mist, and those pencil drawings of angels pouring buckets from the heavens.

My drive way is covered with wet, yellow poplar leaves, and it takes two attemts to escape the gravity of my house, backing up and getting up speed to spin on up to the hard top. I must remember to check the basement, need to call the guy to help me with the latter and clean the gutters.

It is raining! It is raining! It is raining! 

[Jeff Wrangler]

You be careful drivin' on them wet leaves, bud. That can be dangerous.