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Montana Master
Join Date: Jul 2006
Location: K.C.
Posts: 11,731
M.O.C. #5980
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A day in the park....last Spring
We had some local flooding a Month or so ago in Parkville, a few miles from our home, we biked around the park there, It flooded, hopefully it will be usable soon. I wrote a little story last year, I shall submit it for your reading.
The sights, smells and sounds of a day at the park.
I decided to spend the day bicycling at a city park in Parkville, Missouri, it was a beautiful Spring day. Sue was excited about trying some new Jewelry making ideas she saw on her hobby programs, so she stayed at home.
Parkville is a small river town full of Antique shops, mom and pop eateries, and Park University, just minutes from Kansas City Missouri and Kansas.
I am blessed, and sometimes cursed by an enhanced olfactory sense. I don’t know if I can detect the 10,000 different odors that are considered normal, but I enjoy Spring and all the smells it brings.
My bicycling around the mile plus track at English Landing Park, takes me by the ballpark to the West, over a steel bridge spanning a small creek, then along the mighty Missouri River just feet from the river itself. The path is shared with joggers and bicyclists alike. It comes to a circle at the South end, then doubles back on itself for a quarter of a mile or so along the railroad tracks, again just a few feet away. The hard packed pea gravel path then winds down among the swing sets, picnic tables, basketball courts, into the parking areas and around to the ballpark and it’s start.
I love to ride there, the bike is quiet, so you can hear the birds singing, the children laughing, people talking as you ride by them. I noticed that the circuit also treated me to the myriad of smells ranging from the heavy river odor, the patches of Clover, flowers and blossoming bushes, the oily petroleum smells of the railroad tracks, but most memorable were the people I passed while riding on the trail. There was a tall athletic runner, a Black girl, that had some sort of muscle ointment on, a young college age girl that must have just washed her hair, it had a wonderful clean smell, I passed a little girl on a bike with training wheels, her pink helmet off to the side of her head, a big grin, smelling like bubble gum, I had a hard time wiping the grin off of my face after that.
There were 5 different trains that passed by, empty leaving and full coming, coal cars for the power plants in Kansas City. I noticed that when they came by the park leaving the city, the engines would be doing around 35, but by the time the last car whizzed by it was doing at least 60, I assume Parkville was the last crossing for many miles. The train cars had a steady whine as steel wheels traveled on steel tracks, but an imperfection, flat spot, or dry bearings gave each car a different sound, the track would bend down as the cars passed by. I had to resist placing a penny on the tracks, as I did as a boy. It’s probably a Jailable offense now under the Homeland Security act.
One of my rounds by the river brought me to the narrow and steep boat ramp, where a man in a small aluminum boat was yelling at his poor wife, he was fighting the current while she was backing the Ford Ranger and boat trailer into the water. I parked my bike and sat on the picnic table, as I knew this would be entertaining. He made a few passes, testing the current and how he was going to make the final lunge onto the submerged trailer, this maneuvering kept his attention, and he stopped yelling at his wife, much to her relief.
He made the final run at the trailer, full speed, he powered up on it sideways, engine whining, smoke curling around the boat. He climbed up to the front of the boat and tied on a rope, leaving the engine screaming. He pulled up to level ground, then got in and shut off the engine. He spent the next few minutes banging and kicking the boat hull to get the boat level on the trailer with his wife keeping a safe distance. She probably hates it when he wants to go to the river. He had ‘God is great’ hand painted on the side of his boat. I read nothing about his wife there.
Parkville had what they called a Brew fest that day, I rode up the small hill past the newer strip mall shops to a large tent. It had a sign lettered Parkville Main street. They were charging $15.00 at the tent entrance, there was a band playing Bluegrass music, a radio station van sitting there with it’s microwave antenna sticking high in the air.
I parked my bike and sat in the shade sipping on my water, just watching and listening to the couples and families walking to the tent. There were many family dogs on leashes accompanying the people, Bikers riding up and parking, thankful for a destination to go to, along with the beautiful day. I studied the scene, and couldn't’ see the reason for the people to pay the $15.00, as there was just a cluster of tables with the vendors goods from town, I didn’t even see any chairs to sit on.
I decided it was time to go home and have some soup Sue had prepared the day before, I packed up my bike and gave up my parking space to a grateful newcomer, my head full of things to put to paper.
As I write this in my office, I can hear the train whistle blowing from the very tracks that go through Parkville, 5 or 6 miles away, my cat Rowdy is laying in the window on a soft piece of flannel Sue put there for him. It’s good to be a cat in our house.
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