Photo: “Puppy Love” Donna Murchison
I was up in the Oregon hills a few years back on the way to California. It was a beautiful day. Sun was shining, the air was clear. I surmised that by the time the sun went down, I’d reach my destination of Sacramento.
Now, I was just coming into quiet, quaint little town about to descend down a not so big hill, when I saw that at the bottom of the hill a not-so-big pickup truck was starting its ascent up the hill.
As we drew closer, I could see this wasn’t an ordinary pickup. No, sir; this was a fully restored 1968 CMC custom half ton. And I could tell the owner was a fussy fellow when it came to detail.
I could see through the windshield of the truck and there was Dad behind the wheel. Mom in the passenger side and jammed in the middle between the smell of Dads WD40 stained jacket and Mom’s Channel #5 were Sis and little brother.
Sis and Mom were no doubt talking about “girl stuff” while little brother looked like he was still wincing from the pain when Dad dropped the shifter into low gear and just about dislocated his knee cap.
I could see into the box of the pickup which looked like a cornucopia of flea market consumerism.
An arborite-covered kitchen table, three very ugly green chairs, two stacks of Readers Digest magazines and at the very back a little red toolbox. Behind it lay what looked like to me to be about 9 1/2 inches of radiator hose.
It was about this time that the pickup hit a bump in the road and the 9 1/2 inches of radiator hose flew out of the back, suspended itself in mid air while flipping end over end approximately 38 times…before crashing to the ground.
We often use hand signals and gestures to get the attention of other drivers. So, I waved and pointed to the driver of the pickup. Nothing. Didn’t notice. Tried a few times. Blew the horn. Nothing.
Stuck my middle finger in a firm vertical direction. That worked. He slammed on the brakes. Glared at me. Then into his rear-view mirror, finally understanding what I was pointing at.
It was about this time when what I THOUGHT was 9 1/2 inches of radiator hose turned out to be a small black chihuahua pup, and he was loudly making it well known that he wasn’t happy with the events that had just shaken his slumber.
Well, I watched in disbelief as the little guy jumped up onto the rear bumper. He hoisted himself up over the tailgate, and tucked himself back in behind the little red toolbox.
Moral of the story:
I learned a thing or two from that little chihuahua. There will be big bumps in our lives. Ups, downs, and curves when we least expect them. Just when things seem at their worst, it amounts to nothing but a temporary upset.
Lean not on your own understanding, for this too shall pass.