Roller Travelling Virgin

That would not be describing me--no. Though it seemed that way when I hopped onto the rink for the first time in nearly a decade. Imagine hydroplaning on a two inch sheet of Louisiana rain. A treacherous Southern highway claiming an unsuspecting victim. That's what it felt like yesterday as I skidded across the rink here in suburban Alabama. The children drivers, oblivious to the awkward traveller careening across their paths. They just mosied on, enjoying a sun-shiny day. Clear road. Perfect traction.---Somehow I'd been precipitated into a narrative that only a middle aged man could perceive.

That leads us to the other man on the highway, Hussein, the Travelling Virgin. Never been in a pair of wheels, not his entire life. Well, with a name like Hussein, you know those folks in the Middle East don't even have paved roads, much less padded rinks.--(I wish I were being entirely ironic, but of course in Palestine, that's what the Israelis have done. Created an apartheid whereby only the nationals drive on paved road, with separate identifiable license plates. If only Americans weren't duped by the uninformed media.)

How I'm pulled into digressing!--So back to the Virgin.--Well, there are advantages to being one you know. Especially if you're middle-aged. Because by then, you know to play it careful. So instead of barreling onto the highway, he kept to the side of the road. Holding onto the siderails as he nudged his way from bend to bend.

By the end of the hour he had made his way around the rink, a full circle!--With a clear triumph at hand, we turned in the blades and set our calendars for a future attempt. Some time toward the end of March.--Anyone want to join...the highway is awaitin'!