FROM BALLOON TIRES TO PLUG-IN VEHICLES

 

A series of essays….

A SCENE THAT IS BECOMING MORE FAMILIAR EVERY DAY:
PUBLICLY CHARGING OUR ELECTRIC VEHICLES.

                  COURTESY OF DRIVESOCIETY.COM

….as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

At an early age, I wanted a dark green Jeep! So much so that I called my first two wheeler, with training wheels, painted a light blue, and salvaged from someplace other than Sears and Roebuck, my ‘Little Jeep.’  A shout out to Roy Rogers, Pat Brady, and Nellybelle, Pat’s Jeep. I was as rugged and terrifying on that bike (sans training wheels, eventually) as any little boy on our block! After all — it was my Jeep and I could blaze a new dirt trail with the best of them. Simply conquering a city sidewalk, complete with uneven concrete slabs pushed up at odd angles by the roots of mature maple trees lining the block, was a feat to behold. Affixing a playing card to a spoke with a spring loaded clothespin brought life to my Jeep each time I went out to conquer the rugged terrain of suburban Mishawaka, Indiana.

I was what many people who knew me well called a tomboy. Being rough and tumbled put me in my comfort zone; having an older brother solidified the deal. 

Ronnie got a bike that year, too. It arrived in a huge, flat box that hung out from the trunk of my dad’s powder blue Chevy. My mother’s face beamed with joy when Ronnie first saw the box and realized its contents. Dad looked a bit perplexed as he pulled piece after piece out of the cardboard container until he found the instruction booklet. Saving the assembly fee offered by Sears and doing it himself wasn’t the option dad particularly preferred right about then. But, with a little time, a few swear words whispered under his breath, and mom’s help, the job got done and Ronnie was the proud owner of a very fancy new bike.

MY BALLOON TIRE “LITTLE JEEP”

MY OLDER BROTHER’S ENGLISH RACER

And there it was, parked in our driveway, an ‘English Racer’ — a maroon Schwinn with 3-speeds and handbrakes, a small basket on each side of the back tire, and the skinniest, white walled, 26-inch tires I could ever imagine! Thin, gray wires protruded from the low profile, racing handlebars to each tire and small switches and levers lined the sleek curvature of the bars themselves. It all looked so futuristic and exotic to this five-year old kid. My big brother was going to be able to fly through our neighborhood like an Indy race car on its Memorial Day run, all revved-up and powered by fine-tuned mechanics and super human adrenaline. 

All I wanted to see right then was Ronnie up on that narrow seat and balanced on those skinny tires that made my balloon tires look like my grandmother’s ankles after working on her feet all day. Of course, he managed, although there was a learning curve when it came to adjusting to the three speed positions and use of the handbrakes. Everyone called these 3-speed bikes English Racers referring to the riders in Europe who rode the Super Dome bike tracks for speed and fame. Funny, our English Racers weren’t really racing bikes, but they sure looked like it to all of us. And, I don’t know where Ronnie’s ended up, but I’m certain he got his mileage out of that beautiful bike.

NELLYBELLE THE JEEP
FROM THE ROY ROGER’S TV SHOW

Ronnie, when not off on a wild adventure of his own, soon became our Uber Driver, Shipt Shopper, and GrubHub delivery service while dad was traveling around the Midwest for his job. Since mom never had a license to drive, his role during the week on that speedy English Racer made life a bit less hectic for the three of us left at home.

With the influence of my dad leading the way, my love of bikes eventually turned into a love affair with the automobile. Keeping the memory of the green Jeep close to my heart, Dan and I contemplated purchasing a Jeep Wrangler shortly after we were married in the autumn of ‘73 after he’d applied for construction jobs in Eugene, Oregon. We had hoped to blaze our own trails out on the West Coast but never made it out there and did not invest in a Wrangler, either. Instead, our first vehicle together was a midnight blue, stick shift, Pontiac Firebird Esprit with white interior. The purchase price was somewhere in the range of $3,500 and quite a bargain for two twenty-three year olds.

I had to wait a little while for my very own ‘English Racer,’ but, it was well worth it. I loved that car.

Eventually, after our two daughters were old enough to appreciate the ride, we purchased a 1984 Pontiac Trans Am with T-Tops and built-in roll bar. With its V-8 engine and super easy maneuverability, we spent many sunny road trips with the wind blowing our hair into a frenzy and having no particular destination in mind. We would just follow the broken white lines and take pleasure in the scenery and the ride.

Dad always told us to enjoy every vehicle we had by taking good care of it no matter what model or year it was. Our car was the ticket we needed to explore any road we wanted and would lead us to places we never knew existed. In this regard, he was a very wise man. Where dad lacked patience in other fields, we knew that when it came to driving the family car on vacation road trips at sixteen, he was the one who allowed us to take charge and do the right thing without fear of repercussions. In other words, he trusted us being in charge and that gave us the confidence we needed to sit behind the wheel.

The self-assurance dad instilled in all four of us kids created our respect and love of the automobile. He really should have owned his own dealership. He would have been an amazing salesman with such passion and determination to back him up. Although, working for the Sinclair Oil Corporation and Quaker State Motor Oil Company placed him as close to his beloved cars as possible. We would move as a family at least once a year in order to keep his dream alive and soon became ‘nomads for the cause’ and learned to adjust out of necessity.

I don’t know how dad would have reacted to the latest venture of helping to save the world via the electric car complete with its rechargeable batteries and multiple charging stations throughout the country. This concept would seem to go against every principle he ever stood for or believed in. This was a man who enjoyed getting dirty while changing the oil in his car; who used to chide about Ethyl octane gas and jokingly ask who was Ethyl, anyway?; wash his hands raw with Lava Soap after a weekend of working on the car, and made a decent living for his family by selling the very products, gas and oil, that electric cars are eliminating. 

Respecting change is what it’s all about and dad was of the generation that ran away from change; embraced the attitude that if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. I think he might have tried to talk me out of what I know and believe I should do in order to create as small of a footprint on this earth as possible. As an adult, I have wanted an electric car for a long time. Now, living up in Michigan again, there are certain prerequisites that slide into the ‘must have’ category when thinking of purchasing any new vehicle and having 4-wheel drive marks the number one slot. 

2021 FORD BRONCO

For now, I am seriously looking at the new and modernized Ford Bronco this time around, but waiting for the premier of their electric model slated for 2022. I know dad must be rolling over in his grave right about now having been a Chevrolet (at least a General Motors) man most of his life. However, I’m finding a huge likeness between my ‘Little Jeep’ from many years ago and the Ford Bronco. It has just enough ruggedness built into it along with plenty of panache to match a sleek English Racer, any day — all while keeping an intelligent outlook towards the future of clean driving. 

On second thought, I think my dad would be proud of my decision. 

ALL EYES TO THE FUTURE!

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

 

 

THE WISDOM BEHIND SUPERSTITION AND CREATING DAILY RITUALS

 

A series of essays….

SENDING OUT GOOD VIBES FOR A BEAUTIFUL AUTUMN,
A POSITIVE OUTLOOK ON LIFE, AND A FUTURE FILLED
WITH HOPE, GOODWILL, AND LOTS OF LOVE!
~ 3:20 P.M. — SEPTEMBER 22, 2021 ~

….as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Creating little rituals can help to turn the world right-side up, even for a moment, make sense from nonsense, retain a semblance of sanity within a chaotic world. Rise by six, back to bed by ten, and love thy neighbor in between, or so the story goes. Judging the right moment to harvest the lavender; creating purple nosegays to hang from a hand hewn kitchen beam to dry and be marveled at while sipping morning coffee at seven. Step on a crack and break your brother’s back; a wicked little pleasure designed to appease a younger sister’s broken spirit and assist in retaining her sanity. Relinquishing control as you slip into your lover’s warm embrace and the blissful sleepiness soon quells the pandemonium of a long day. Sitting in ‘easy pose’ while contemplating aching muscles, aging, meditative mindfulness. But, your green cushion has disappeared — and that’s simply the way life goes.

FRESHLY HARVESTED LAVENDER 

To dwell among myths, legends, and unfounded beliefs, taught to us by means of fairy tale books, black & white movies from our youth, sitting around a campfire, or listening to old wives’ tales is to welcome superstition into our lives with open arms, no matter what the consequences might be. These are examples of allowing excitement and fear of the unknown to overpower common sense and rule over us — even for a moment or two. Will a pin thrust into a rag doll promote a  hurtful Voodoo reaction on someone we wish to inflict pain upon? Can a person turn into a vampire, suck our blood, and live until a wooden stake is thrust into their heart? Will a candy-laden witch scoop little children up out of the woods and roast them in her oven to be eaten? We will always have a ‘dark side’ of life to contend with; special scenarios that will tease and haunt us throughout childhood and into our adult lives. They may raise goosebumps on our skin, send chills down our spine, and unsettle our daily routines with their dark shadows woven between belief and denial.

Beginning on Presidential Election Day in November of 2016 until the present, we have become haunted by the knowledge that floating around our heads were not so subtle ideas of changing governmental policies into nightmare beliefs. That humankind was not created equal and that, eventually, the laws stated in our Constitution and the idea of living in a democratic society would become controversial and negated by many. Enter ‘Trump World’ based on lies and blatant misinformation. Lies, untruths, ‘The Big Lie,’ alternate reality or a parallel universe designed to weaken humankind’s spirit, fortify irrational thinking, and break-down democracy as we know it. The radical disbelief of scientific achievement coupled by believing in ‘The Big Lies’ invented by little minds hellbent on breaking our country apart is part of the superstitious entanglement of those willing to be manipulated and influenced in a clever or devious manner.

MAY WE ALWAYS KEEP THE
PEACE AND TRANQUILLITY OF
A PERFECT SUNSET IN OUR HEARTS!

The fine line between superstition accented by clusters of negative daily rituals is thin and tenuous and designed to subtly breakdown our spirit. It is often characterized by the craftiness of humankind: to control or influence someone or something cleverly, skillfully, or deviously! It is up to human nature and the law of the land to sift through them, decipher right from wrong, acknowledge the positives and negatives surrounding each act, and do what is right for all of the people. Keeping our spirits high and trusting in the good within ourselves and others is important. The lessons learned by loving, caring, and treating people as you would like to be treated yourself are invaluable. The wisdom we acquire by understanding life’s positive messages helps to create our own buffers against evil practices even if we must cushion the negativity of ‘hate’ by creating our very own little rituals and superstitions to counteract it. Learn to love more, give more of yourself to others in need, make the time to truly appreciate the beauty of the world around us, and keep an optimistic attitude towards life each and every day. Our positivity will overcome!

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

WHERE WERE YOU?

 

A series of essays….

FLIGHT PATHS OF THE FOUR PLANES USED ON SEPTEMBER 11, 2001

….as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

The day began, like so many others, with waking-up and getting ready to drive to work. The Florida sun was already raising the outside temperature on this Tuesday, September 11, 2001, and all I could think about was celebrating our wedding anniversary on Saturday. Fortunately, work was something that would fill most of my time until then.

“Good morning, Sandy. What goodies did you bring in for us this morning?”

“Good morning!” her smile radiating throughout the reception hall. “One of your favorites today. Go and see for yourself. They’re back in the break room.”

Walking by several other office spaces that were waiting to be awakened by their daily occupants, I entered my own, flicked on the light, walked around the desk to place my purse in the lower, left-hand drawer before turning on my computer for the day. The tightly wound rolls of house and condominium blueprints were standing upright in boxes along my office wall and reminded me of small children waiting in line for a movie or treats. A portion of my job description at Landstar Homes was to compile all essential paperwork, blueprints and fees, and submit them to local County personnel in order to acquire the legal permits that would move us forward with each structure to be built. 

Coffee was an essential part of my morning ritual and Sandy was a gem at having a fresh pot ready before eight o’clock in the break room located just down the hall from my door. She designated Tuesdays to be her ‘made from scratch’ baked treats day and believe me, her talent never went unappreciated. 

Grabbing my mug from the dishwasher, I turned to see Chris Johnson, my supervisor, slip through the door at around 7:50 AM, according to the large clock hanging on the wall. “Hi, Jackie,” he said. “Really need my coffee right now. I have a feeling it’s going to be a very long day.” 

“Good Morning, Chris. Are we still on for our 10:00 conference call? Go ahead and pour yours. I’ll be right behind you,” I said.

“Yes, 10:00, in the conference room. Oh, I’d better grab one of these before they’re all gone. Sandy outdoes herself every week, doesn’t she?”

Before I could turn to see what they were, I was filling my mug as other co-workers, bleary eyed and zombielike, entered the small room just as Chris was leaving it. ‘Good Mornings’ were exchanged all around as Lisa, our Spanish speaking coordinator and customer service liaison, switched on the small television to catch-up on the news. Pounding the top of it with her closed fist she exclaimed, “This thing is almost a goner. Look at the picture, it’s all fuzzy and green. Well, at least we can hear the news, I suppose.” 

Why even have a television in here in the first place, I often thought. Especially one that turns humans into the Hulk walking around in a snowstorm! The break room was too small for it, anyway.

Luckily, through gesturing arms and the aroma of freshly toasted bread, I spied Sandy’s tray with three pieces of blueberry cheesecake bars left on it. Better move fast, I thought. Moments later, I was walking back to my office with my treasures in hand and happy as a child who, finally, received her treat after standing in line for so long.

Consumed by my work, I barely noticed the time slipping away. I had my notes ready for the conference call and didn’t think much about anything else other than my permit packages that needed to be completed and taken over to the County offices later in the afternoon.

Looking at the time on the top of my computer screen, I marveled at how an hour could fly by without even realizing it. That’s when I heard the commotion coming from down the hall. Doors were being flung open, feet were scurrying from all directions down the carpeted hallways, and subtle gasps emanated from the direction of the little break room. I was thinking that someone had just turned-up the volume of that poor, broken, little TV and I should close my door in order to shut out the sound. 

Someone shouted, “Everyone get in here! You won’t believe this!” Another voice cried out, “This can’t be real. It has to be a joke or a prank made for TV. But listen, that’s Tom Brokaw speaking, I think!”  “Damn this old piece of s—t,” declared someone in earnest. 

Terry in Accounting stuck her head in my doorway, saw me still sitting there, and proclaimed, “You’d better come right now and see this for yourself. It’s difficult to make any sense out of it…”

By the time my feet caught up with my thumping heart, it was fairly obvious that our little break room was not meant for occupancy by the entire office staff! I squeezed through in order to see the small screen before deciphering what was being said by Mr. Brokaw and other reporters. I realized that everything and everybody was in a state of chaos as blurry scenes of a jet airliner repeatedly flew into a tall tower of concrete with multiple windows. Even Mr. Brokaw was losing his cool which struck me as even stranger than the looped scene before me. 

ALMOST TWENTY YEARS AGO— 

AFTER INNOCENCE AND NAIVE THOUGHTS WERE SWEPT
AWAY ON THAT FATEFUL DAY IN SEPTEMBER, 2001

Every soul in that little room was in shock and/or disbelief. It took quite some time before many of us could even grasp the concept of what was happening in real time in New York City. The frustration of not being able to see everything clearly on that damn little screen, only compounded matters. So many questions floated among us while watching this scene that, I know, was being viewed all around the world by this time — whether the people were just waking up or had been up for hours. 

“What a horrible accident!” and “Oh, those poor, poor people!” Echoed sentiments from inside the room. Like many others, I’m sure, we felt that this was a huge mistake or a mechanical error of some kind. It’s amazing how, only twenty years ago, our innocence, naivety, and thoughts of anyone attacking our precious land literally blinded us from the truth…

…until someone yelled, “Oh, My God,” as a second plane crashed into the South Tower of the World Trade Center. I looked up at the clock. It was 9:03 AM. 

By this time, some of us were holding hands and openly crying. 

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Pete Gallagher, our development manager, yelled from out in the hall. By the look of shock on our faces, he knew better than to expect a calm answer.

We all huddled together throughout most of the morning; supporting one another and taking turns running back into offices to make phone calls to loved ones and friends and asking, “Do you see what’s happening? Are you okay?” No one asked us to disperse. Nothing was expected of us. Morning conference calls were canceled and eventually rescheduled. 

By 9:37 AM, another plane crashes into the western side of The Pentagon. Little did we know that yet another plane had been hijacked over Ohio and was told to turn around and head for Washington D.C. or that the civilians aboard this flight would revolt against the hijackers in an attempt to take back the plane. This plane crashes into a field 80 miles southeast of Pittsburgh shortly after 10:00 AM. We did not know at the time that the brave souls aboard that flight who resisted the hijackers and forced them to abort it, may have saved either our Capitol Building or the White House, as well as many thousands of innocent lives due to their heroism. 

Were we even hungry for lunch by noontime? No, but we were starving for conversation and being able to express our feelings after one of the most horrific mornings experienced in our lifetime. 

Living nearby two major international airports in and around Orlando always offers views of planes taking-off or landing from almost anywhere you stand outside. Loving airplanes as I do, this was a treat for living in such a busy metropolis that is interconnected to every compass point in the world. 

By 9:45 AM the United States airspace is shut down and all operating aircraft are ordered to land at the nearest airport.

Walking outside our office building was like entering a vacuum; an apocalyptic nightmare. The sky was void of the silver beauties that usually swept over our heads. It was eerily still and quiet among the fluffy clouds and brilliant blue sky above us. We instinctively knew that the comforting feeling of normalcy was going to be lost for a very, very long time.

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

REMINDERS

 

A series of essays….

THESE ROCKS TALK TO ME. THEY TIE ME TO PLACES I’VE BEEN
TO AND REMIND ME OF THE JOY I FELT BEING THERE!

….as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Small testimonies of life lived and places visited with people we love crackle all over the house. Like Pop Rocks candy on your tongue, small explosions of reminders burst from the walls, cabinets, and shelves; physical proof of having shared time and space within a world other than the framework we call our home. 

I collect rocks. Oh, I’ve been known to accumulate many other collectibles, but I really like bringing a rock home from every trip I’ve taken. It’s as though its physical presence will tie me to the places I’ve been — forever, in time. If I label them immediately, remembering is simple and straightforward. If not, somehow the dense warmth of each stone placed in my hands reminds me of where it was extracted from and I smile in genuine appreciation. 

The rocks talk to me. They relate to the draw and pull that helped me select them from all of the others in the first place. Each one breathes life back into a place where my footprints gathered on a sandy shore, traversed an earthen path forged from the floor of a tree lined forest, or struggled to climb up a mountainside with ancient rock ledges forming natural stepping stones up to the clouds! 

Apart from souvenirs that conjure memories of our past experiences, the passing of time marks the anniversary of these adventures we observe as sacred, new, or worth noting. Like a child experiencing snow for the first time, the loneliness we may experience after the loss of a spouse or a good friend, or living through a new episode of life as we have recently observed by the ending of the war in Afghanistan after twenty years of conflict with Al-Qaeda and the Taliban.

Now that we’ve entered this new month, September reminds me of wedding anniversaries; my own, as well as those of good friends with whom we are bound together like colorful satan ribbons encasing flower stems held by a bride on her special day. 

Many say that sharing a fine meal together is a powerful experience that tightens the bonds between mere acquaintances and good friendships. I will always believe that the way into someone’s heart is sharing good food and drink, laughs and reminiscences, and the simplicity of spending time together as we create the memories we will cherish years from now.

Having recently spent several days with good friends at their beautiful home sharing recipes and indulging in fine wines and spirits, it is true what they say about this being a powerful and memorable experience. Mike and Elaine, along with their Chocolate Labrador puppy named Peyton, welcomed us with the generosity of spirit and hospitality of kind people who truly care about having fun while creating lasting memories. 

In lieu of spending three nights in Chicago together, opting not to venture out into a Delta Variant landscape and the chance of multiple restrictions placed on restaurants and Blues clubs, we canceled all of our reservations there for last week. Instead, we were graciously invited to experience Giordano's stuffed Chicago Deep Dish Pizza sent frozen to their door, aged steak four inches thick, and various libations at their home. One word: Excellent! Peyton supplied the energy while trips around the lake on their pontoon boat provided much needed relaxation. New memories were made offering potent reminders of friendship and good times.

Reminding ourselves of highly pleasurable or exciting experiences can help to ease the pain and recollection of unpleasant ones. At the same time, retaining numerous mementos of sad times and the people we have lost along our journey in life can prevent us from moving on and adapting to a more positive outlook heading into the future. Being human with all of the emotions attached to it creates a fine line between adapting to loss and pushing upwards into more palatable experiences beyond the sorrow.

As I sit here writing I am listening to Dan hammering on the new cedar siding he’s installing right outside my window. The fresh cut cedar panels smell warm and soothing as he measures and then cuts them to size; toasted liquid cedar is how I would describe the aroma as it gently wafts into our cottage. With each nail driven into the new wood, life settles into a slow motion dance that reminds me that slowly but surely the remodeling is being completed. With each new day and every side-step and waltz move, our dreams are reaching fruition — just as we’d hoped they would a few years ago. 

These subtle reminders of a life well lived surround and comfort me as we will soon celebrate forty-eight years as a married couple. How I remember thinking that just being forty-eight years old was such an accomplishment! Now, when he brings me a steaming mug of coffee in the morning and gently sets it down near my i-Pad as I work, I am grateful for the kindness that this simple act of love expresses.

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved