Sometimes I see fascinating people but just in passing, hardly time to notice details outside of whatever caught my eye in the first place.
Usually I’m driving, and those are times I wish I were moving just a little slower, so I could see.
Last week gave me two such snapshots:
I was driving west and he was walking east and we passed so quickly, I had to check my rearview mirror to be sure.
The man was hitchhiking, trying to catch a ride. But no one seemed to be slowing down for him.
It might have had something to do with his attire: a red mesh cut-off shirt hanging loosely over a flabby white belly.
A hint? If you need a ride, try to find a real shirt to make you look just a tad more reputable.
(He was gone when I drove east, so maybe someone finally stopped?)
Friday I was walking home, slow because a late lunch with a township manager and the summer sun were making me sleepy. Construction crews were using hugely oversized machines to tear up asphalt along the quiet neighborhood streets and most of us out walking dogs or walking home were paying attention to them.
But they were walking fast, tennis shoes still white and clean, both wearing athletic shorts and lightweight shirts.
This was no pleasure stroll, no stopping to watch giant machines eat asphalt.
They each had their own iPods pumping music trough their own earbuds.
They held hands as they power walked.
How long must you walk together before your gait and arm swingings are so synchronized you can hold hands for an exercise walk?