One early morning last week I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me as I was leaving the gym and holding the door for someone on his way in and for just a moment I thought he had an eyepatch on his left eye.
I concede I saw no trail of Norwegian Blue plumage leading back out to the parking lot nor did I hear the ominous approach of a Clockodile but it nagged at me, so much so that I was extra diligent the following morning (= nearly fully awake) leaving the gym, but no person.
I did see him however on Friday morning and yepper, he most certainly had an eye patch as well as a gym bag. I'm calling him Pete the Pirate because I am basically inadequate as a human being and like to reinforce my own sense of self-esteem at the expense of others, in other words, a 21st Century American.
Even though Pete was walking through the parking lot, I hadn't seen what, if any, car he had gotten out of. I had been thinking about this for quite some time since I have enough trouble driving with vision in both eyes, and I am not sure how someone with only one eye can be issued an operator's license and how much a challenge restricted vision like that must present.
To me, without depth perception, driving would be beyond extremely difficult if not bordering on the impossible. I Googled just about every traffic law in Christendom (except that one <==, actually) and really couldn't get a sense of whether he could be issued a license and under what circumstances, etc. and, to be honest, pretty much stopped thinking about it until yesterday morning.
That's when I was already at my vehicle when I watched him get out of his car. Actually, he more or less extricated himself from a pile of automobile parts with an internal combustion engine and four wheels. Wow. The car's literally a beater. The entire driver's side from all the way up front to all the way in the back, where most of the tail light assembly is crumpled and crushed and some red plastic with duct tape is working hard as the tail light, brake light and blinker has seen way better days. Yipes!
That made me contemplative as I drove away, thinking I shared the road with someone like that until I realized the only time I should have NO worries is when he's at the gym because that's when I know exactly where he is. It's the other 23 hours of the day that I should exercise extreme caution while keeping my eyes on the road and my hands upon the wheel.
-bill kenny
Ramblings of a badly aged Baby Boomer who went from Rebel Without a Cause to Bozo Without a Clue in, seemingly, the same afternoon.
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