Time Machine

As I observe our fast paced plastic world of gadgetry, I begin to realize my sanity is beginning to stretch its imagination to the breaking point to meet this high tech new millennium.  I am thankful I can still find radio stations that play Blues and 50s’ Rock and Roll music. So what does an old codger like me have to do to keep his mental normality and retain a wholesome out look on life?

I slip away to my garage where hidden under a cover is my precious Time Machine. I uncover it slowly, dust it off a little, climb inside and stare at all of those mechanical gauges with arrows that indicate its various functions. I take the key and turn on the ignition. It sputters and coughs for a moment as that new MTBE 98-octane gas takes time to catch hold. (Whatever happened to 104 octane?) Slowly I put it into reverse and back it out of its dark ‘bat’ cave.

Once out in the sunlight it’s in a New World. A Time Machine ready to go for an adventure and I’m there to adjust the settings and establish the direction. Now I know how Dick VanDyke felt when he piloted the Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang.

We slip out into the world of jellybean shaped modules whizzing to and fro; I now know the purpose of my adventure as I enter into this New World.  I am where strangers suddenly become friends. I see kids in mini vans with their faces pressed to the windows, smile in awe and their eyes light up as I go by. A man with a cane walking his dog stops and waves his cane; his face beams a greeting. Teenagers on the corner give me the thumbs up. People in parking lots turn and grin and reminisce of days gone by.

You know I must find time to use it more often. I bet some days I could just park the Time Machine somewhere and watch the changes it brings out in people and to the world around it.  It is a wonderful thing. Yet I can’t help feel this is not my machine but I am its keeper; I am the curator of a single museum piece that interests and belongs to everyone.

Ray Yedding
Roamin Angels
With thanks to: Carl Wimmer for the idea.
(This was written about my 1965 T-Bird)