The departure of the high-pressure front last night gave us a spectacular set of booming thunderstorms and lightning strikes that I was confident were going to knock us off the grid. I stayed home to watch it, since I am working with a knee strain and a prolonged bout of vertigo.

I started out the morning with a baleful look at the passing parade and an exchange with some old colleagues that concluded with the observation that “This is not madness, but assisted suicide.”

Thank God it is car week out in Monterey, California, and our pal Mules is doing his usual cracker-jack job of reporting on lovely machines that I could put the entire retirement account into for a spin around the block. There is something about the sound of the high-compression engines that makes me come alive. I am down a quart on cars and car-shows this summer. Maybe that is why I feel a little out of sorts.

I have been wanting to bring the little hot-rod Syclone up here to make an appearance at the regular summer Saturday morning gathering at Katie’s Cars Coffee & Cars in Great Falls. We were supposed to be at Peru, IN, for the August rally in the ’59 Rambler wagon, but things got too hard for either my brother or me to make it. Next year, for sure.

It is much more fun to ogle the people and cars at the meets than follow current events. There is a lot of darkness out there, and too much to be worried about. For example, I got two prescriptions from my new doctor, a nice fellow out in Falls Church who seems to think my blood vessels need stretching or something, and another to keep me from tipping over. Both drugs have warnings of potential side-effects, including drowsiness, which…..snore…..Wait, I am awake! I was just resting.

I had been thinking that my issue with the latter physical malfunction was a function of swimmer’s ear, which I wasn’t that concerned about since the pool is only going to be open for twenty-two more days, total, and shuttered during the week after the5th of September when things start to accelerate toward the season of the Big Dark.

Easy come, easy go. Then it is back to having to figure out where and how to exercise, which is what started me on the yoga kick last year, but my knees are getting so bad that I am back on a cane to stay reasonably upright and being in the water is the only sure-fire low-impact cardio that makes any sense.

One of the hard- core group of swimmers at Big Pink is a devotee of the Arlington County indoor pools, but the thought of that strong chlorine hot-house fills me with trepidation. I guess I will fall off that cliff when I get to it.

It is hard to believe that the whole enterprise is coming to an end so swiftly. It really does seem like just yesterday we were meeting the new crew of young Polish guys who shared our summer, and who will now jet back to their homelands, our months of daily interaction done.

And that, in turn, argues powerfully for a change into the bathing suit and a trip to the pool deck while I can.

Copyright 2016 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com