Let's Go For a Ride

A man who looks like Bill Murray is wearing a turquoise toque. A woman almost steps in front of the bus. Two men bond over having the same cane. They clink their canes together in a toast. A man crossing the street is almost hit by the bus as it tries to make a tight left. A grey plastic bag falls to the floor spilling menthols and an energy drink. The essentials. A mother and daughter board.

The mother is dressed in black velour track pants, a taupe racing stripe graces each leg, a gray West-Coast Chopper t-shirt and bright red jacket spotted with NASCAR patches. Her skin looks nicotine stained and overwhelmed by freckles. But her face is a shadow beneath her death blond hair, over-moussed and over-sprayed in an attempt to turn back the clock.

The daughter looks to be about three or four years old. Like little girls do, she’s wearing a monochromatic purple outfit topped with a dirty lavender winter coat. She has thin, whispy blond hair and perfectly flushed skin. But her eyes are her mother’s eyes, heavy-lidded and sadly turning down at the outer-corners.

The two exchanged few words. The mother sat stoically. But the girl gazed about with that sad looking face, absentmindedly touching her hand to her mouth, hesitantly pinching her bottom lip in a gesture I know too well.