Over the weekend I was driving with my son who always makes a point of telling me how much over the speed limit I'm going. I tell him it's the angle he sees the speedometer from the passenger seat (it only looks like 85), but he doesn't buy it. Smart boy.
Anyway, thanks to his policing of my lead foot, he pointed out something I might have otherwise missed. My mileage had reached a certain visual milestone. And while initially I didn't think much of it, the more I looked at it the more interesting I thought it was.
Not the fact I had it pointed out to me, but that thanks to my son, I recognized it as a slightly special moment that wouldn't happen again. At least not on this car.
It also made me kind of sad to think I had four chances before this to notice something similar, but either hadn't paid attention or hadn't looked down at the odometer in time.
I liked seeing all the fives in a row like that. It was neat. Orderly. Crisp. I have kids, so I appreciate those things more than the average individual.
Then, just as I'm really enjoying the fact I got to see it, this happens:
The moment was gone.
If you've read this far you're probably thinking, "Here it comes. He's going to start shoveling some New Age crap about his stupid odometer being a metaphor for life, and how you have to be aware of the little moments that are happening all around you, all the time, every day, because they won't come around again and you'll be sorry you missed them."
So not me. Nope. Not going to do that.
But I will say that when a moment somewhat out of the ordinary happens - no matter how small - and you're aware of it, there probably is something to be learned from it.
For example, I learned two things.
I need to dust my dashboard more often. And I better unload this rustbucket before it hits 60,000.
3 comments:
Rustbucket. Whew! You slay me.
I get creeped out when my odometer falls on three 6's in a row. It makes me want to drive faster just so I can change it. (Shiver)
I remember when my odometer hit 44444. I was driving back from your house.
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