|The boy enjoyed the articulated steering apparatus on the front|
end loader, while its 4-foot-tall, 12-foot wide reinforced steel
shovel really agreed with my inflated sense of power.
Add in the presence of the boy and his propensity to absorb, digest and frequently regurgitate everything he witnesses and I have reason to be self conscious.
So it was that we found ourselves a 30-minute drive from our home climbing atop gigantic motorized machines at an event sponsored by the city.
There were back hoes, buses, front loaders, fire trucks, armored police SWAT vehicles, ambulances, bulldozers and dump trucks.
The event was called "Big Rigs" and the name fit. Some of these machines were huge, many required six or seven-step ladders just to climb into the driver's seat. There were also lawnmowers that only required one step; so a complete spectrum was on display.
Like his dad, the boy wasn't in the best spirits when we arrived but it didn't take long for him to warm up. And like any of these events, kids were everywhere, as were waiting lines.
|OK, so if your house was burning down this might not be the|
two people you'd want at the wheel of the responding fire
truck. But, they're pretty cute nonetheless.
It was a noisy, happy zoo, punctuated by the inevitable loud noises. One in particular stood out.
Stop for a moment if you will and think of how loud a fire truck horn is. It's bowel-shaking, ear-rattling and life stopping. In its own way, a fire truck horn is a very real form of power.
Now picture with me, if you will, that power being enthusiastically and frequently exercised by any four-year who escapes mom and dad for just long enough to get behind the wheel and reach the horn.
One of the funnier moments we ran into was thanks to Mrs. Blackwell. While the three of us were patiently waiting our turn to put the boy in the driver's seat of a city bus, a girl just skipped in front of us and sat down in the seat.
She was probably eight to ten years old — old enough to know better — and Mrs. Blackwell wasn't having it. That girl got maybe 30 seconds behind the wheel before Mrs. Blackwell, with the help of another mom who was waiting in line, let her know, it was ovah!
My wife is an extremely happy person and her face conveys this. She smiles frequently and in general exudes a sense of gentile serenity. It's a bit alarming then to see that look twisted and contorted into one of thorough displeasure.
But, for sheer comedy, it was fantastic to see the catalyst of this transformation was a rude little girl (and not her husband).
So, we'll be going to Big Rigs again next year, assuming there isn't a great game on TV.