I am accused of driving too fast.
Richard put three 18-gallon tubs of glass for recycling in the back of the truck about 3 weeks ago. Today I took the truck to town because our boy took my car to Springfield for a follow-up consult with the neurosurgeon about the recent MRI of his head and with the general surgeon about his armpit.
We already knew the result of the recent MRI, so we decided to let him go by himself. If my friend who sometimes reads this blog happens to read this post, I am likely to get a telephone call from her in which she will yell at me for letting him go by himself. I will gird my loins and take her lecture like a... a... woman.
Our driveway is a bit of a bumpy ride. Our land is part of the watershed of the Eleven Point River System, and there is a wet weather spring in the woods behind the house that becomes a small river after a hard rain.
Too much water pours off of the land behind our house to be contained in the channel that has formed, and that, combined with water draining from other areas of our property, frequently turns our driveway into a temporary river.
All this moving water has taken a toll on our driveway over the years.
Richard has hauled several tons of gravel several times to repair the low spots and it has done little good.
You drive too fast, he says. You drive like a bat out Hell, he says.
I start to argue with Richard.
Our son, who has returned from his trip to Springfield—without incident—is sitting on the couch listening to this conversation with unconcealed glee because he is usually the one who is gets the lectures.
Yeah Mom, he pipes up, you really do drive too fast.
Arguing is futile. Richard has the proof. All three of the tubs have been turned on their sides and glass has spilled out all over the back of the truck. Some of it has shattered.
Do you realize how fast you had to be going to knock all three of those tubs over? he wants to know.
I went out and cleaned it all up. I picked up all of the glass jars and bottles and put it all back in the tubs.
I got out the whisk broom and the dustpan and swept up the bigger pieces of glass as best I could.
I got the shop vac out and sucked up all the smaller shards that I missed with the whisk broom so no one accidentally impales him or herself.
I got out the broom and swept carefully under and around the truck to make sure no shards of glass end up in a tire or in my bare foot.
I promise from now on I will creep down our driveway with my foot off the accelerator.