Greeting to all and welcome new friends to the EastWing.
“She’s a coming,, yep she’s a coming right around the corner” said the man pumping the gas.
The north wind was blowing cold and hard as I stepped into the early morning wind walking toward Mr. Lincoln, my ride to work. Snow was in the air.
It was not the big white puffy snowflakes on TV. Unlike the pretty snow on Winter Love Stories seen on the Hallmark Channel, it’s not that kind of snow. It’s 1/2 the size of BB’s, little snowflakes rolled into ice balls. These little Ice Balls sting my face as I walk into the North Wind. A cold dreary winter day ahead.
On the way to the office I decide it is time to get some gas. As I pull up to the gas pump the thought crosses my mind. Gas tank never wait for good weather to call attention to themselves. When it’s time, it’s time. The weather be damned.
As I pull up to get gas, another car pulls up on the other side of the pump. The other driver gets out at almost the very same time as I. He too fumbles with this wallet getting a credit card ready to purchase. He too inserts his credit card. It then dawns on me. We’re not in the swimming pool doing the same thing. But we are doing Synchronized Gas Pumping.
As I stand holding the nozzle watching the rolling numbers converting my credit into gas in the tank, he says “You ready for spring?” I say “Everybody is ready for spring, including me”.
“She’s a coming,, yep she’s a coming right around the corner” the man pumping gas into the tank of a 1997 Chevrolet says without looking my w ay.
I don’t answer back. I don’t know how to answer back, I don’t know what to say. One can’t disagree with a statement like that. What if, what just if, this is the man who determines when spring comes to North Judson. Now that’s not so farfetched when you consider a ways to the east of us there’s a state out there that uses a groundhog to let ‘em know them when spring is coming.
Maybe this man pumping gas into the 1997 Chevrolet even knows Punxsutawney Phil. After all, they appear to be in the same business of weather prognostication. Far be it from me to challenge such experts in that line of work. Plus he even knows the gender of Spring. We all know the gender of Mother Nature. Only he knows the gender of Spring. For sure would not want to cross this guy, just in case, just in case. So I remain quite as I watch the rolling numbers inside the window of the gas pump.
I look toward the other side of the pump. He’s gone. It’s as if he was never there. But he was, ‘cause he asked me if I was ready. When the pump automatically kicks off and Mr. Lincoln is once again ready for another 400 miles of road running, I replace the gas cap lid and pull away from the pump feeling a little more happy for the upcoming day at the office. After all, early this morning I’ve learned something not everybody knows.
“She’s a coming,, yep she’s a coming right around the corner” so said the man pumping gas into the tank of that 1997 Chevrolet.
From the EastWing, Little Ice Balls, Buying Gas On A Card, Weather Prognostication At The Pump.
I Wish You Well,