My First Stranger

My friend Di has started a blog, and she’s a pretty funny gal. I highly recommend a trip over to Talking To Strangers.. only a couple of posts yet, but well worth a read!

Talking to Strangers

His name was Tim. 

I don’t remember Tim. I don’t remember this incident. What I remember is my mother’s retelling of this incident. She found it amusing. She found me amusing, if her stories are any indication. 

Because the back drop for this story is Yakima, Washington, I must have been between my second and third birthdays. 

My dad came home from work one day bearing a ‘new’ tricycle for me. Really, it had been my older sister’s, but he’d taken it to a friend’s house for repairs and repainting. I’m cool with that. I was so excited about that tricycle that I leaped aboard and took off for my first road trip without looking back. I’m told that I was out of earshot instantly; my tiny legs moving faster than those of the grown-ups in pursuit calling for me to come back. And come back NOW. 

Legend has it…

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