On The Way To Papa’s Tapas

 

I participate in a small group of senior ladies, numbering between 5 and 8, depending on who can make it.  We make a concerted effort to get together the last Thursday evening of the month to go out to dinner.  Yesterday, our designated driver picked up 4 ladies (including myself) in her SUV.

Now, we are not your “everyday-type” of senior ladies.  We are all special in our own ways, and stand out because of our very personal individual characteristics.  We treasure each other because of, and in spite of, these.  A sense of humor is most important!

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One lady sits in the back and must get in on the driver’s side where she finds it easier to enter; another must sit in the front passenger seat; the thinnest of the group sits in the middle so she can get the full brunt of the a/c vent, and then I’m left to sit behind the front passenger seat.  Throw in aching, painful back problems, difficulty in walking, difficulty in getting in and exiting the car, and with three of us using canes to assist in walking, we were a fine, healthy bunch of women.  Toss in young at heart and a keen sense of humor, and you have the makings of a great pot of senior ladies’ soup.

Oh yes, we mustn’t forget about Ms. Driver.  We are aware of her strong driving personality.  We all brace ourselves by holding on to the handles above the doors; grasping the door wherever we can find a finger-hold; and not to mention gripping the backs of the front seats to steady ourselves – particularly when going over bumps, train tracks and most importantly, getting ready to stop at a traffic light or stop sign.

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Ms. Driver is a very thoughtful woman and has a heart of gold; however, when she’s behind the wheel, we all hold our breath.  We take it all in stride.  Even though some teeth-mashing occurs, we always seem to arrive safely and in one piece.

This evening, we weren’t so sure about arriving at the restaurant in one piece, due to an incident that occurred when we were only one block from our destination.

We had to slow down because a man was walking a motorcycle in the middle of the road.  He didn’t seem to notice the sound of the car’s motor, and had no awareness about our wanting to continue down the street.  So, Ms. Driver blasted the horn.

The man turned, looked very upset, and left his motorcycle where it was, came over to the side of our vehicle with an angry face, yelled something unintelligible and threw his fist at the car.  It landed on the post between the front and back windows.  Hard!  We thought he must have broken his hand, or at least, dented the car.

Properly frightened, we sure were. What if he had a weapon in addition to his fist?

Ms. Driver was able to scoot around his motorcycle.  We kept watch, looking  back, worrying that he might get on the motorcycle and do something dangerous and irrational which would cause us harm.

We finally drove into the lot in front of the restaurant, parked, and Ms. Driver had her finger over her phone, ready to call the police. We continued keeping an eye out for that crazy guy, exited the car and hurried in.  We didn’t take our eyes off that guy.  We could see that he was looking up and down the street, obviously searching to see where we went.  He evidently didn’t see that we pulled into the lot.  Finally, we saw him walking his motorcycle down the street.  He passed us by.

Don’t you think we kept looking outside while in the restaurant, to see if he would come back?  Of course.

It was an exciting evening in more ways than expected; one, I believe, we will be talking about for a long time.

 

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