Recently, we saw a young man rollerblading around town. He was adept at what he was doing.
He rolled along the sidewalk, across an intersection, and beyond on one foot. One. One foot. Uno.
It took me back to the summer of 2000. When one little pebble almost ruined me. I was riding around the park on the sidewalk. When a single, solitary, minuscule pebble estranged from his Rock family met the front wheel of my rollerblades.
I didn’t fall. But imagine with me, if you will, coasting along smoothly at a steady speed of what felt like twenty miles an hour on your feet, then encountering an obstacle, at which time your feet slow down to about ten miles per hour, and momentum carries your upper body along at the original speed.
My head and torso went forward, my hands went out, and my feet went back. I tried to get my feet to catch up with the rest of me. It took a while, but I was determined not to fall.
At this point, I wasn’t exactly rolling. It’s hard to describe, but it was more of a hop, one leg at a time — on wheels.
This sidewalk ran along the edge of a busy street. It was the time of day when people were heading home from work.
People glanced over from their driver seats to watch the spectacle.
Finally, my feet were underneath the rest of me. And men and women from all over town were doubled over their steering wheels with laughter.
Unfortunately, the guy we saw recently never happened upon a pebble.
It’s too bad. We could’ve used a good laugh. And I would have rather written about him tonight.
to the rollerbladers,
– Caleb
caneymountainblog.com 