Gage

Rainy Days Every once in a while, Mother Nature sends us a little gift. Nothing too generous, just a little rain for a day or two. She decides we've had a bit too much sunshine for our own good, and resolves to remedy this herself. She pushes her spectacles up a little on the bridge her nose, sighs at the world, the sigh of a tired parent getting up from the couch to pull the TV remote out of a toddler's mouth, and turns on the faucet. I cannot be sure, but I have a hunch that she then reclines a little in her expensive chair, siezes her coffee from a nearby table and maybe crosses her legs, getting ready to watch the show.

A Loss for Words I wouldn't have thought a Dodge Neon could be considered an all-terrain-vehicle, but apparently I was wrong. There it was with five passengers struggling up the mountain side, kicking up clouds of parched red dust, the poor little engine whining and whimpering constantly, taking on much more than its fair share. It stopped every so often, occasionally for a flock of mottled-looking sheep or a herd of cows, other times for the topes- large speed bumps that seemed to be constructed of whatever was available at the time. Often, the car was too weighted down with passengers to navigate the hillside, so we got out and pushed or walked alongside. I began to appreciate pavement more than I had ever expected to. Multiple emergency lights were lit, but it never stopped going. That brave, willing little car could have climbed Mount Everest. But that would have been quite the commute.