Ticket to Ride
“We have to go to the train station, Andra.” MTM’s toe tapped the floor as he held the front door open.
I was still sitting at the dinner table. I think I spoke through a half-masticated shrimp. “Now? But, I’m not—”
“Just leave it. You can eat when we get back.”
“But, everything will be cold, and—”
“Come ON, Andra. It’s really important.”
I griped all the way to the car. Held my hands over my eyes as MTM dodged cars on the interstate like he was the next great NASCAR sensation. Screamed when a woman stumbled into the road and tried to flag us down so she could rob us. (The train station is not in the best part of town…..)
My head jerked close to the windshield as MTM screeched to a stop. He almost tried to exit the car before it stopped moving and returned with a square box, covered in layers of tape.
“A box??? You almost wrecked the car and got us shot and killed over a stupid box, MTM?”
He ignored me. Wove in and out of traffic and got us home in record time. Before I could even get my car door open, he was halfway up the stairs with his Precious Box.
“Don’t touch it! You’ll mess something up!!” He promptly broke one of my discontinued crystal wine glasses as he ripped into tape and bubble wrap.
“But, can I just pop a few bubbles?”
“NO!!!!! Get back!!!” MTM resembled a four-year-old on Christmas morning. His eyes sparked as his Precious emerged. Three disjointed pieces of white.
The L’Eroica bike race is two weeks from tomorrow. Of course, it required a new (vintage) bike, one that comes apart and fits in a suitcase to avoid the $150 per leg shipping fee the airlines charge. (Though who knows how much those freaking silver couplers cost………more than $500, I imagine.)
Still, MTM’s face made the whole ordeal worth it.