You think Cleveland rocks?
steel chords of thundering goodness!
Did you ever have one of those days where you didn’t realize the story you were getting, until you sat down at home afterwards with all of the pieces, and it was right there where you didn’t even realize you’d captured it until it all came together on the computer screen?
This weekend was the big P.T. Cruiser show at Young’s Dairy Farm in
Friday couldn’t roll around fast enough but at last the big day did indeed arrive and with baited breath and the raucous sounds of Jimi Hendrix screaming out the open windows of my Plum Purple P.T. Beauty I drove the forty-five minute journey to Yellow Springs in twenty-two minutes flat. Yeah, I was as they say on the east side, haulin ass, dude.
Not long after I parked my trusty metallic steed, The Purple haze, in my assigned spot in one of the many rows of parked automobiles, I was out and about, flying my club colors and looking for my P.T partners in crime. Well, it wasn’t long before the ladies knew I’d arrived and I was greeted with a love festival of warm smiles and hugs. I was feeling pretty good and figured the best was still yet to come.
As the evening progressed I was informed, by what I believed to be trustworthy club brothers that we were all going to meet for breakfast at the Young’s Dairy Restaurant on Saturday morning and would then afterwards proceed into the P.T. Cruiser show area and park our vehicles as a group. That’s the way we roll, or so I thought...
Saturday morning I arrived fifteen minutes before the scheduled ten-o-clock rendezvous time and was not too overly concerned when I didn’t see any of my fellow
After breakfast I drove my P.T Cruiser up the gravel road to the big show and was greeted by a parking attendant who informed me that my fellow club members had already been parked as a group but he’d do his very best to get me as close to them as humanly possible. Now, I’ll give the Gem City Cruisers this much, when they saw how much difficulty I was having getting my canopy up in the wind several of the guys did come over and provide some needed assistance. It wasn’t until a few hours later that I discovered that all the other club canopies had been pitched as a single pavilion.
Still, it was a beautiful day and I met some very nice people. They may not have been my fellow Gem City Cruiser brethren but still they were basically good natured folk. Yes, I know you’re wondering where the Toledo Club fits into all of this, but honestly, I didn’t even realize the part they were going to wind up playing in my afternoon adventure until the magic moment they swooped in on the wings of angels and saved me from a near fatal canopy disaster. That’s right, I said a near fatal canopy disaster.
Now, where was I? Oh yeah, as the afternoon progressed I began to feel a bit excluded from the club I’d so naively thrown my lot in with. While the Gem City Cruisers sat together enjoying the special camaraderie that only matching shirts and colors can create, my wife and I sat alone under the green canvas of our canopy reading recipes aloud to each other from the Real Simple Magazine. Yes, I managed to hold back my tears of sadness, but just barely.
Now, the whole time I was sitting alone in a
This group stayed together all day laughing, sharing food, beverage and a whole lot of friendly camaraderie. It was magical. Good karma seemed to follow them around the whole day long and it seemed like they were winning door prizes every other five minutes or so. One woman not only won gourmet bottles of wine but a set of really nice Budweiser beer steins to drink it out of too. I’m not kidding you, it was incredible.
Ok, its late, I’m sunburned, tired and its way past my bedtime. I think you already get the gist of the suffering I endured, so if you don’t mind, I’ll just skip ahead to the "near fatal canopy disaster" and draw this sordid tale to an end.
So, there I was at the end of the day, with most of my fellow Gem City Cruiser club buddies already packed up and headed back to the ranch, when I decided to end my afternoon of fun by packing up my tent and preparing to slink forlornly home. Felicia was sitting off to one side taking care of the baby as I began the task of pulling up stakes and dismantling the canvas shelter. Suddenly, the wind blew the canopy upon the ground and it caught the wind in the manner of a parasail and began dragging me through the cornfield of doom.
I was terrified; I could hear Felicia Screaming, “N-o-o-o-o-o!”
My poor baby was crying, “Please, somebody save my daddy!”
And that is when the Toledo Club sprang into action like a professional team of synchronized ninjas. Ten, twenty, thirty yards or more I was pulled through the cornfield of doom screaming and praying for my very life. Like angels wearing Red Ball Jets of greased lightening these brave souls closed the distance between us until just before I was about to sail over a fifty-foot cliff, to a sure and terrible death, they not only caught the deadly canvas sail but also collapsed it into a manageable mass and saved my very life.
(I know, if I hadn’t been there myself I wouldn’t believe it either.)
They wouldn’t accept a reward. That’s just the way they roll I guess. They wouldn’t give me their names so I could give them the proper due they deserve on this unworthy rag of a blog. They simply tipped their white cowboy hats and disappeared into the sunset. I will never forget the kindness they showed me today and neither will Felicia.
I’ll bet those Gem City Cruisers are sorry now...
C'mon, you guys know I love you too.
See you next week on the short ride?