There for the Grace of God go I

So I managed to get the car started my set belt secured Celeste programmed to recognize I was really in Oregon and off I went.

"Drive 500 feet and turn right.....then turn left."

As I pulled out of the parking structure and in to traffic simultaneously I realized several things. The car was too wide for the streets, the traffic too heavy and I was a terrible driver. I was also somewhat concerned with what looked like marked bicycle or pedi-cab lanes and if I could drive in them. 

I was confusing Celeste as I continued to over drive what were initially suggestions but eventually became shrewish screeching. 

"Recalculating...Recalculating...Recalculating", she continued to yell at me. I was sure my ears were playing tricks on me when her voice took on the tone and timber of the bad spouse. I expected to hear her say, "Hey asshole, you should have researched the roads." 

It soon became apparent I was going to make directional changes every few blocks so I slowed to a crawl and eventually navigated my way out of the congestion.

I don't know when Objects in the Mirror are Closer than They Appear became confusing and difficult to understand. Taurus designers added some extra help for drivers covering their blind spots. Each side view mirror had a small convex reflector attached to its top giving me what I imagined to be a flies perspective of on-coming over-taking side traffic. Changing lanes was more difficult as it often looked like I had four cars approaching with several in my back seat.

I just realized, rather obtusely, I might add, Taurus is the second sign in the zodiac and signifies the Bull. This is a befitting name for my motorized conveyance as any.

I was happily reminded why Wanda did all the driving at home.

I had asked the car rental agent about the rush hour traffic out to Beaverton, I could simply say the kids place but I just love the city name Beaverton. It's such a pleasant sounding place to live; Beaverton. Imagine large bodies of water filled with thrushes, water lilies, cute wooden dams and buck-toothed furry critters with flat leathery tails. 

Wanda and I live in Pitts-Burg, a Burg of Pitts. Cherry pits, dirt pits, arm pit pits...and the kids live in Beaver-Ton, a city with a Ton of Beavers.

The agent suggested I grab a beer or a pop (an obvious mid-west transplant she was) and sit out the worst of the traffic but by the looks of things I'd spend the hour looking for a place to park. And after the long train ride I was anxious to get moving, settle in at the motel and see the kids.

Once out of the immediate congestion traffic wasn't too bad and I made the seven mile drive to Beaverton in about thirty minutes.

I had reservations at a Marriott Fairfield Inn about a mile and a half from Rebecca and Tim. The motel was clean and comfortable, the staff helpful and friendly. 

I'd seen Rebecca and Tim in May so I was somewhat familiar with the area and Celeste helped me navigate the short drive. I did get confused with her turn right instructions and soon realized I was lost.

The car was equipped with Bluetooth. 

From what I could gather some sort of a disk or device was needed to synchronize with the on-board electronic multiphase command center. Once a dialogue or exchange of communication data was established a user would choose a log and sign-in password for continuing accessibility.

Alan J. Ricardo and Rodney Fitzpatrick were the last two who accessed the system. 

I pulled out my TracFone and called for help.

Rebecca told me I was in the complex next door and gave me real time instructions to their door. Once I pulled in to the right place she could see me from the patio. "No, Dad...you just passed the parking place. Back-up to the last V. V, not B. V like in Visitor."

I started to reverse direction and a moving image caught the corner of my left eye. For a fleeting second I thought the dash had a video screen showing non-stop porno which would surely be too much to hope for. The car had a freaking back-up camera. 

This wasn't just any camera but the Mother-of-all-Back-up Cameras. In addition to the rear view the image had horizontal lines on each side of the car and squares that changed color from green to yellow to red and increased in size as the vehicle got closer to a stationary object.

What happened to looking back over your shoulder? I don't want my car to have near miss carnal knowledge of another vehicle. It doesn't bother me that I may need an extra pass or two to extricate myself from a parking space. 

Is it really necessary to have a camera in the ass of the car to signal a warning as you're about to hit the wall as you back into the garage. Hang a tennis ball on a string from the ceiling. It will do the same thing and cost about a dollar and a quarter.

If cars have become so large we need all these visual assists I suggest building them smaller.

Speaking of Smaller

Me and Granddaughter Grace. 

She is just over one month old while I'm a tad over seven-eighty-seven. Grace is much more captivating than me. She smells better, like a milkshake. I wondered what she was thinking when I was feeding her. 

Probably food...food...food...hungry...tired.

I came to the conclusion that newborns are much like cats, except they don't pee and poop in a litter box. 

Grace has a super high tech swing that she loves. It's likely to be a precursor for the ride-in-the-car. 

She sleeps a lot. She already has more hair on her head than I do and I think she'll pass my height by the time she's seven or eight. Rebecca says she has "Shulak" feet which sentences Grace to a lifetime of buying and wearing cover-up footwear. With toes like ours sandals and flip-flops are a visual endangerment to others.

Rebecca posted the picture on Facebook the day it was taken. For those that don't use the social media giant, isn't she cute? Thanks for all your comments and cards and gifts, especially the gifts. By the looks of the nursery Grace may need new things when she starts elementary school.

Over last week-end the most difficult conceptualization for me was the reality of time. 

I remember watching Bert, Ernie, Kermit and even Mr. Roger's Neighborhood with Rebecca. I easily visualized her propped up on the arm of the couch in front of the TV while I explained the different positions on a baseball field. I well remember playing "restaurant worker and customer" for hours at a time and a train trip from California to Michigan when she was seven. I remember going to school band concerts watching the second clarinet and trying to teach her to drive a stick-shift.

I have new memories to create with Grace. I will have all the pleasure with little of the fear and responsibility. That I'm passing along to the next generation.

Rebecca asked me if I would like to feed her and of course I said yes. Nicholas is the last baby I held and he's going on nineteen, so it has been a while. Grace seemed content as I held her in my arms. She'd taken close to three ounces when Rebecca walked to us, reached down and rubbed Grace's little legs.

Take another look at the picture. It was taken a few seconds earlier.

Good old Grandpa Chuck, the retired Registered Nurse had manhandled Grace and elevated her legs, drastically curtailing her circulation which caused her lower extremities to turn PURPLE.

A word to new mother's everywhere. For the first eighteen years (especially the girls) don't let them out of your sight.

Tomorrow: My friend Doreen, the Harry Potter hat and final thoughts.