Minnesota Marco
New in Town
- Messages
- 17
- Location
- Minnesota hinterland
Yesterday (Sunday) afternoon my wife and I went to the supermarket. The weather here in Minnesota the previous week had been unseasonal; warm sunny days had melted all of the snow and ice on the roads. On this particular day a winter storm had been forecasted for the evening, meanwhile the wind was blustery with gusts of up to 40 mph in our area. Once we got to the market I opened the car door, which the wind promptly tore from my grasp. I leaned out to grab the handle and forgot about my western hat atop my gourd. The hat flew up about 20 feet and dove to the pavement at a crazy angle. I jumped out of the car and my wife asked, "Where's your hat?" I pointed at its general direction.
I set off to retrieve my hat, the very one pictured in my avatar. A clerk from the market was in the parking lot and began running after my hat, which was rolling on its brim away from us. I waved the woman off and tried to chase the hat down. The shifting wind caused the hat to veer one direction, then another. Meanwhile cars were swerving to avoid both the hat and the madman chasing it. (My biggest fear was that the hat would be run over by an unsuspecting driver.)
The hat continued rolling, zig-zagging, and flipping, past the supermarket, the office supply store, the video store, the hair salon, the health food shop, and the pizza joint. Near the end of the plaza there were few cars, hence no physical impediments to stop the hat. My hope was that if the wind didn't die down that my hat would run right into the icy snow bank on the far side of the road running along the end of the plaza.
I ran into the middle of the lightly traveled road, pointing to my hat as various cars came along. All drivers were understanding, some even moving into the wrong lane to avoid me and the hat. The hat came to rest at the snowbank. I bent down to pick it up and the wind launched the hat again, and it careened down the road. By this time I was running on pure adrenaline. At last the wind died down. My hat was back in my grubby paws.
I had chased the hat some 300 yards and was out of breath and sweating like Paris Hilton in a spelling bee. I examined the hat for damage. Thankfully, it was minimal: a few dangling bits of fur (5X beaver) along the brim and some minor scuffing in places. I wear this hat seven days a week and don't mind it showing show wear and tear, after all, a good western hat should be able to take an occasional beating.
My wife finally caught up with me and looked at me with concerned amusement or amused concern--I dunno which. She said her only regret was that she didn't have a video camera at hand with a good zoom lens. Perhaps this hat has a stampede string in its future.
I set off to retrieve my hat, the very one pictured in my avatar. A clerk from the market was in the parking lot and began running after my hat, which was rolling on its brim away from us. I waved the woman off and tried to chase the hat down. The shifting wind caused the hat to veer one direction, then another. Meanwhile cars were swerving to avoid both the hat and the madman chasing it. (My biggest fear was that the hat would be run over by an unsuspecting driver.)
The hat continued rolling, zig-zagging, and flipping, past the supermarket, the office supply store, the video store, the hair salon, the health food shop, and the pizza joint. Near the end of the plaza there were few cars, hence no physical impediments to stop the hat. My hope was that if the wind didn't die down that my hat would run right into the icy snow bank on the far side of the road running along the end of the plaza.
I ran into the middle of the lightly traveled road, pointing to my hat as various cars came along. All drivers were understanding, some even moving into the wrong lane to avoid me and the hat. The hat came to rest at the snowbank. I bent down to pick it up and the wind launched the hat again, and it careened down the road. By this time I was running on pure adrenaline. At last the wind died down. My hat was back in my grubby paws.
I had chased the hat some 300 yards and was out of breath and sweating like Paris Hilton in a spelling bee. I examined the hat for damage. Thankfully, it was minimal: a few dangling bits of fur (5X beaver) along the brim and some minor scuffing in places. I wear this hat seven days a week and don't mind it showing show wear and tear, after all, a good western hat should be able to take an occasional beating.
My wife finally caught up with me and looked at me with concerned amusement or amused concern--I dunno which. She said her only regret was that she didn't have a video camera at hand with a good zoom lens. Perhaps this hat has a stampede string in its future.
:eusa_clap
