Sunday driver.

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Polyurethane and a weed eater. Those were the items on my list. So I fired up the old Impala, rolled down all the windows and headed toward the highway. An hour later, errands accomplished, I turned onto to our somewhat quiet dead end street. Sunny and warm, swarms of kids were outside on bikes, scooters, big wheels and tricycles. I slowed down to about 3 miles per hour. In my rear view I saw a girl on her bike pedaling quickly. Within seconds, she caught up with me on the driver’s side.

“Pretty, pretty car,” she said very politely as she passed.

I pulled into the driveway and thought the kids are alright.

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