In which I learn I’m not as dashing as I thought I was…
I see myself as an outdoorsman.
I have the scruffy beard, the camping gear, and the willingness to get outside for several hours on a howling windy day. Outdoorsman, and ruggedly dashing, absolutely.
I load up the bike with my gear, and set out for sparsely populated areas.
I soak in the outdoors, celebrate natural features, and ponder deep things in quiet places.
And I travel those dusty gravel roads… because that’s what us ruggedly dashing outdoorsmen do.
Since I am independent and self-contained, I don’t sashay into a coffee shop. I take my refreshment on the roadside.
I settle in for a rest. There’s hardly any traffic on this road, but I am surprised to see a USPS truck drive by. The driver waves and smiles. I wave and smile a ruggedly dashing smile.
A little while later, the USPS truck returns from the opposite direction and stops in front of me. The woman driver greets me with a smile and says, “Would you like something to eat?”
I am stunned.
I politely refuse, and point out that the very reason I’m stopped is to have a little snack…the very one that I have with me.
She presses holding several packaged food items in her hand, “Are you sure? I have these and I don’t need them.”
I tell her again that I have everthing I need, and will probably go home and have lunch soon.
There is a pause while she processes that information, and then she says, “Oh.”