Just a random story that popped into my head this afternoon. Several years ago while we were down at my parents house for Christmas, we decided to go to a place out in the desert near the Utah / Arizona border that has a bunch of American Indian petroglyphs.
Well, it just so happens that my grandparents (on my dads side) were visiting that day (Christmas or the day after, i can’t recall exactly which), and they decided to come with us. As we headed out, about a block or two away from the house, we were following my grandpa. And as we drove by this house, a basketball (or soccer ball?) came flying over the fence into the road. It looked brand new. Probably a new christmas present for the kids at that house.
Well, i don’t know whether my grandpa saw the ball or not, but he didn’t swerve, he didn’t slow down, he just kept on driving. There was a loud “POP” … and that was the end of that ball. Nobody stopped or slowed. We just kept driving along, not sure whether to laugh at the situation, or feel sad for the kids and their ball.
Now everytime i drive on that street on the way to my parents house i can’t help but remember that ball. POP
2 Responses to “Pop!”
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I remember that too! It was a mean thing he did. I’m sure some little boy was heartbroken.
I remember that extremely well. It was Christmas day. It was still morning, so they had probably only played with it for a few hours at most. And you are right, your grandpa never slowed down or swerved an inch. Those poor kids!