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Willie Riding with Willie (not his real name) ought not to be a frightful experience, for my middle-aged friend is always a careful driver and seldom disobeys the law. But habits can vary so I found out one sunny summer afternoon. It was Saturday. As usual, Willie picked me up and we headed to St.Vincent Basilica for an hour of confession. We then would proceed on to the mall or a familiar bookstore where we would enjoy each other's company before heading home. There was always a definite time of pick-up and an hour of return. This day was no exception. Ritualistic activities usually occur in some pattern. This was ours. As the story goes, my friend in his two-door red coupe pulled up to my curb, smiled at me through the closed glass window, and I proceeded to get in. We greeted each other pleasantly, and he put the car in gear and we slowly headed toward our destination. So far, nothing was out of the ordinary. Willie stuck to his slow to moderate speed as he traveled through downtown Latrobe in the left lane all the time chitchatting with trivialities that seemed to pass the time as we motored closer to the church on the hill. On the other side of town, we turned left up one of the main avenues when all of a sudden the southside resident proclaimed, "Do you remember this band back in the sixties?" Musical vibrations were echoing from speakers located in the middle of his dashboard. I studied the series of notes and had to admit nothing sounded familiar. Then all of a sudden, Willie did the unexpected. He actually bent over and started fiddling with the buttons all the time stating, "Well, if you just hear this next song, I think you'll recognize the band." Now, I know we were going to confession, but I was hoping he was not arriving there to state that he had just demolished his car and injured his best friend who could not recognize some short lived foursome that made musical history. There's got to be a time and place for everything, and this was surely not the time to nose his way along the keys of the control panel in search of the right button to push. "Get your head back up and watch what you're doing," I screamed at my driver. Abrupt outbursts do help in matters like this. It worked so I thought. But Willie was determined to find the song for me. Down went the head again. I couldn't believe what I was witnessing. My conscientious chauffeur was conducting his modusoperandi far off course. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. "Look out for those mailboxes!"
I exclaimed as I sat on the edge of "I see them, but you have to hear this song. It's really great! It will really help you feel relaxed!" he said in a very calm tone. I thought to myself, "How can I feel any kind of calmness with fence posts, mail boxes and telephone poles approaching the front of the car?" Just then, a group of notes filled the air. "I know that one," I proclaimed. "I remember that one! That was definitely a great song." Then the thought occurred to me. If I had told "Wild Willie" earlier that I recognized the first song, none of these strange goings on would have ever taken place. I could certainly have saved some panic stricken times. Oh the trials and tribulations of life... Paul J. Volkmann * 6-6-01 |
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