One July afternoon, I was trying to decide whether or not to go to Watch Hill for a run. I was feeling a little tired, but the good thing about running there, aside from the views of the ocean and Little Narragansett Bay, is the fact that you can easily lengthen or shorten your run by going down one street rather than another at several intersections. With that in mind, I changed into my running shoes and headed out the door.
There were plenty of parking spaces on Larkin Road so I took one toward the bottom of the hill. I felt lucky to get this space since it was a beautiful summer day. On top of that, a few of the spaces were taken by hay bales and construction vehicles for work that was being done on the road. Starting my run going uphill would be a good way of determining how far I to go, anywhere from around 2 to just over 4 miles. You usually can’t be sure how well you are going to run by how you feel beforehand so I was pleasantly surprised as lethargy and drowsiness vanished with the first step. I knew right away that I would be running the four mile course.
I ran past the Ocean House and headed to Niantic Avenue where a small hill gives a view of the ocean from Watch Hill to Weekapaug on a clear day. Today was one of those days and I was grateful I had decided to go for a run instead of sitting around the house. My breathing stayed steady and relaxed and by the time I got to Bay Street I was running with a smooth, easy stride. I ran until I got to the top of the hill and felt the exhilaration that comes at the completion of a good run.
I cooled down with a bottle of Gatorade and, after walking for several minutes, got into my car to drive home. It’s a good idea to drive slowly on Bay Street during the summer as some people don’t always use the crosswalks or watch out for cars when they cross the street. So I was not driving more than five miles per hour when I glanced at a woman sweeping the sidewalk in front of her store. She looked up, our eyes met and she smiled at me. How nice, I thought, perhaps she had seen me when I ran past her store a few minutes before. Maybe she was a runner too. Maybe I had looked even better than I thought when I ran by.
As I came close to the statue of Chief Ninigret, two women on bicycles were coming toward me in the opposite direction. As each one passed by me, they looked directly at me and smiled! Like the woman at the store, they were both pretty and there could be no mistake that they were both looking right at me. Isn’t this great, I thought, feeling quite pleased with myself, here I am 63 years old and women still smile when they see me. Staying in shape has its benefits.
With the thought of driving through Watch Hill again, I turned right onto Ninigret Avenue rather than continuing on Watch Hill Road and going straight home. I came to the stop sign at the end of the road. A car coming around the corner slowed down and stopped across from me. The driver lowered his window as he and his woman passenger smiled at me. He motioned for me to lower my window and as I did so, he pointed to the front of my car and said, “Hey buddy, do you realize there’s something stuck under the front of your car?” I put the car in park and stepped out to see the real reason for why I had been turning heads.
I had parked my car just inches from one of the hay bales and then forgotten it was there when it was time to leave. I had started so slowly that I hadn’t felt the bale slide under the front of the car. With my radio turned on, I hadn’t heard what must have been a swishing sound that had caused the woman sweeping in front of the store, and who knew how many others, to look up and notice my car. There I had been, driving down Bay Street like a street sweeper, like an old-fashioned steam locomotive with a cow catcher.
Chagrined, but also thankful that someone had stopped me before I went back to sweep Bay Street again, I dislodged the bale from under my car and drove off. I had driven about a mile before a voice inside my head said, “You can’t just leave a bale of hay lying on the side of the road!” So back I went. I put the hay bale, piece by piece, into the back of my car while considering how the smiles of admiration that I thought had been directed my way had actually been smiles of amusement. I joined in and smiled at myself as I placed the last of the hay in my car. At that point, what else could I do?
David James Madden