Fast Cars and Freedom

It was one of those summer weekends that inspire mullets and rock ballads, car cruising and rap, fist-pumps into the air and heads tilted back; faces turned upwards towards the sun, throats wide open in pure, unadulterated joy.  A summer weekend whose scale of Epic-ness tops the charts:  a weekend for the history books…one whose memory will be forever etched into the summers’ of your mind; seared into permanence like hash marks on a good steak; made indelible by soaring temperatures, clear blue skies and cool, refreshing waters.

A summer weekend where the afternoon sun is so hot it stifles sound.  Everything is muted in mirage-like ripples, except somehow the sounds of bees and birds seem magnified.  Where time is measured by the number of licks it takes to control your ice cream cone.  Where long days of light and radiating rays seem to melt time into oozing speed and the day seems to stretch on as endless as the horizon.

It was just one of those days.  The Dog Days.

When you stop to consider the quintessential components of summer and truly no hot rock has been left unturned.  You finish work on a Friday and head to an outdoor concert to sip cold beers and let the breeze off of the harbour bring the music to your ears.  You sleep sprawled out in front of the hypnotic rhythm of the fan, in underwear or nothing at all, because only in the summer is this comfortable.  And you wake up with the suns’ first light, because there are so many minutes that need attending to.

You bring your coffee to walk the dog, but even at 7:30 am it feels too hot to drink.  The day starts off with teaching a couple of yoga classes, and you know that they are good ones, because the sunshine is infectious.  And so is your joy.  And they feel that.  And you know that afterwards they get to go out into the bright, blue sky relaxed, limber and open, with the added bonus that the hot room makes the sun seem pale by comparison, so it has a cooling effect.

Before the sweat barely dries on your body, you head off to a pool party.  A family affair, so Dad plays Top 40 hits on the radio while a huge pot of clam chowder simmers on the stove.  The beer fridge by the pool is full.  So is the gi-normous salad bowl of lobster in the fridge….already peeled and shelled, ready for hungry fingers to pluck an equally enormous claw or tail to nibble at.  You float, and you suntan.  You switch from beer to sangria and you flip through Vogue and other various trashy magazines and you chit-chat and you doze.  You contemplate the condensation running down the side of your gin and tonic because you have that much time.

And when the sun starts to make its descent over the edge of the roof, the ladies retire upstairs to put on their dresses and strappy heels, and you just can’t help but feel sexy in sun-kissed skin and strappy heels, knowing that a night of dancing awaits your unborn blisters.  You feel just about as young as “fast cars and freedom.

Inevitably, you wake up with a hangover the next day.

But that doesn’t matter, because your ride to the beach will be arriving shortly and quite possibly it is one of the most beautiful places you have ever seen in your life.  And when the sun starts to cool on this day, you head back to eat and change and saunter down to watch fireworks by the boardwalk.  You “ooh”and “aahh” in all of the right places, stifling yawns simultaneously.  You ride your bike home and realize that even though the Dairy Bar was closed, the Dairy Queen is still open, so all is still right in the world.

And with a peanut butter smile on your sticky lips, you drift off to sleep and know: summer is here.


3 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Mary Lynn
    Jul 07, 2012 @ 05:36:53

    sigh…………..felt every step!!! Thanks Jen!!!


  2. debbie
    Jul 07, 2012 @ 07:37:23

    I was right there, you are better then a good book, Jen…..


  3. Alana
    Jun 21, 2013 @ 15:52:40

    It was an epic Canada Day for sure!!! xoxox


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