Mr. Walker, Driving Instructor
Thanksgiving With A Surly Scientist • Advice From Old Folks On How To Live Longer - 4
Don’t You Hate It?
Thanksgiving With A Surly Scientist
Don’t you hate it when, with the best of intentions, you invite a reserved physicist into your home for Thanksgiving dinner.
And when you are passing the gravy, you accidentally spill some on him.
And he gets furious,
then turns green,
and starts growing into a gigantic, irradiated, mutant humanoid monster with incredible strength and size who cannot control his rage.
Then suddenly, he stands up, rips the roof off your house, leaps through the gaping hole, and runs away.
And then it rains.
Life
Advice From Old Folks On How To Live Longer • 4
Lydia Tindodger — Age 94
I appear to have hit a wall in my attempt to get my book—Super Useful Tips To Squeeze More Days Out Of Our Meager Human Lifespan—traditionally published. It just goes to show that tradition is not always a good thing.
Like that tradition of putting a soft stick of butter on people’s pillows while they sleep when the temperature reaches 90 degrees outside. It is long past its heyday, as far as I am concerned. And next summer I am going to stop doing it.
I will keep pursuing traditional publishers, but in the meantime, I will continue to share these useful tips here, one at a time, so you can savor each one. Allow them to soak in and become part of your consciousness. Then, incorporate them into your lifestyle.
Here is tip number four:
If you are ever out walking and all of a sudden cans of meat start falling from the sky. Don’t waste time wondering if you’ve accidentally wandered into a secret military SPAM weapons testing zone. Or if the evil Baron Von Spamdropper is out flying his zeppelin again. Run!
The world needs more practical tips like these. Thank you, Lydia.
Story
Mr. Walker, Driving Instructor
Takes his usual route
It was driving week at my Driver’s Ed class, and I got put with Chloe and Jackson. We were standing in the parking lot waiting for our instructor.
“I hope Mr. Walker is nice,” I said.
“You mean, Dunkin?” Jack said.
“Why do you call him Dunkin?” I asked.
“You’ll see.”
Mr Walker arrived in our instruction car. Chloe went first and took the driver’s seat. Jack and I climbed in the back.
“Alright, Chloe. Turn right onto First Street.”
Chloe cautiously followed his instructions—hands at 2 and 10 o’clock.
“When you get to Taylor Avenue, make a left turn onto Taylor,” Mr. Walker said.
Chloe did.
Two minutes later.
“Now turn right onto Lake Drive.”
We rode for a few minutes more.
“Pull in here.”
Jack elbowed me in the ribs. I looked out the window and saw that we were pulling into a donut shop. Jack mouthed the word “Dunkin.”
“A good donut makes any trip better,” Mr. Walker said.
I tried not to laugh and failed.
When I took driver’s education, my driving instructor gave us directions to a different donut shop each day [it’s true!] I got my driver’s license, and I gained five pounds [I didn’t really gain any weight. As a teen, I could eat as much as I wanted and not gain anything. I miss those days!]
Happy Monday. I am thankful for you reading and responding. You make it fun.
Mark
I’d like being instructed to drive to the donut shop!
1. The physicist wouldn't have been named Bruce Banner, would he?
2. The cans of meat falling from the sky thing sounds a lot like the work of the eccentric American journalist Charles Fort, who compiled several collections of such stories in books.
3. Anytime anyone talks about driving instructors I always end up thinking about the marvelous comedy routine Bob Newhart did about one such man. ("Don't pull out!").