Cranks

When I was a very small child, I learned about cranks. These were metal things later on used as dinner gongs, that were used to start cars in those days - you know the boxy black ones that were tall and wide enough for whole families and went slow and safe? When my dad fit the metal crank into the front of the car and turned it fast, it was supposed to start the vehicle. It didn't always do that without a lot more "cranks". My dad didn't use foul language otherwise, but for some reason cranking brought out the bad in people. When my dad got into the car after a successful cranking, and it was now going, no one spoke for awhile. Seemed Dad who looked angry, needed a quiet time for a few minutes before returning to his normal self. This morning as I drove my new mobility scooter designed after the same appearance as such an old car that needed cranks and is called a Gatsby in fact,  I met some human cranks. It was a beautiful BC morning with a blue sky, fresh sea air and lovely gardens along the way on the streets of my town. I anticipated cheerfully, bidding a good morning to everyone I met along the sidewalk. At walking speed in my comfortable mode of travel at eight o'clock AM, I encountered a number of men, women, children and dogs. Only one, answered back my "good morning". Hmmm, I thought. They must be toungeless or just plain cranks, other than the dogs who are always happy to be out and about, none of them looked happy. Perhaps they had exposed themselves to the newscast before going out the door. That gives anyone a negative start to the day. Or perhaps they hadn't had their morning cuppa. Some of the kids heading to school stepped along like zombies, expressionless and with sour faces looking dead ahead. Oops,  must be a big test coming up and they aren't prepared for it or perhaps there was a family breakfast table issue.  One woman, who not only was large in every direction, she had a large heart. She chuckled and gave me a wide berth, moving onto the lawn beside the sidewalk, laughing heartily. "I thought you were a Harley coming along" she said, "and I thought I should give you plenty of room." We had a short chat, and off she went with a smile on her face. One of the teenagers I met, stomped past as though she had a personal grudge against all moving vehicles on sidewalks even though, legally, I am not permitted to ride on the street. The other older children I met, also got my "good morning" but not one of them responded. I assumed their parents and teachers had forewarned them about the dangers of greeting dangerous elderly strangers riding in mobility scooters on a sunny, fully public area with traffic going by. How we do protect our youngsters! Some of the people did nod, I must admit, but most of them pretended I, and my pretty cart, did not exist. It made me think of my dad who didn't like to crank because it made him a crank and he wasn't one.