In The Clown Car

Kish rented a tiny, two-door Fiat upon her arrival in Maine.  I can’t say that I’ll be sorry to see that particular car in the rear-view mirror.

The car is way too small.  Yesterday Kish, Richard, Russell, and I and our bags were crammed into the little vehicle, and needless to say it was an uncomfortable fit.  The rear seats had to be adjusted forward to allow the bags to go into the trunk — if you can call a compartment about the size of a window flower box a trunk — and the unlucky occupants of the back seats also had to carry bags in their laps and have bags perched beneath their feet.  When the car came to a stop and the four full-size adult occupants disembarked, no doubt observers thought it looked like the arrival of the clown car under the Big Top at the Ringling Brothers circus.  t wouldn’t have surprised me to be splattered with a cream pie as I gingerly extricated myself.

The cramped size of the car wasn’t the only issue.  It also had an acceleration problem that quickly became irritating.  At times the acceleration would drag, and then the car would move into the correct gear with a thump and a kick in the rear that knocked your skull back against the head rest of the seat.  Coming on top of the ridiculously tight quarters, it was adding literal injury to insult.

Ice Tray Twist

When I stay in a waterfront vacation rental, I often feel as if I’ve stepped back a decade or two in time.  The appliances, for example, typically have been around for a while, and may not feature all of the most modern amenities.

Consider the refrigerator.  If you open the freezer, you aren’t likely to find an automatic ice-maker.  Instead, you’ll probably see a plastic ice-cube tray.  You’ll need to reacquaint yourself with the lost art of filling the ice tray with water — using the preferred “tilted tray downhill waterfall” method, of course — and develop the reflexes to give the tray just the right degree of twist to free the ice, without applying too much torque and causing the cubes to spring uncontrolled from the tray like escaped convicts and fall to the floor.

If you’re really lucky, the refrigerator will have a metal tray with a handle that needs to be pulled up to break the ice.  That was my favorite as a kid — with the metal fittings frost-covered and burning cold to the touch as you gripped the handle, and the loud cracking sound as the handle was lifted with a yank and the ice splintered into shards.

Appliances that remind you of your childhood, when your grandmother referred to “the icebox” and ice cubes were hand-made, make vacations a little sweeter.

Dawn On Mere Point, Maine, July 8

We’re out on Mere Point, near Brunswick, Maine.  I was up early this morning and had a chance to enjoy the scene of a flotilla of recreational boats on the water as the first rays of sunshine peeked over the horizon.