What is exciting about a child is how they can take something so simple and use it for practical purposes, and even though I'm 57 years old and would never fit it a shoe box, unless of course The Jolly Green Giant happens to leave an empty shoe box in my backyard with a trampoline for me to bounce into the thing, I still understand the whole "little boy" mind set.My teachers and various family members have called me childish for decades.
If I could fit into that cardboard heaven, "my ride" would be a red Turbo Porsche Carrera or an Audi Turbo TT with those "baseball glove-style" stitched seats, and I would fantasize about revving the engine and smoking the tires.
I can almost hear the whine of the Porsche as I race down that long highway, one without nasty patrolmen, who would probably take away my license for the speed I would drive.
This moment I now savor will never happen. I am a retired teacher, a handicapped one who occasionally has to ride in an electric cart, so popping the clutch on a high performance machine would be out of the question, yet there are other things in my life I was also told I shouldn't do, and I did it anyway, because it was so damned much fun.
Being a teacher also means that you don't drive a Porsche or even an Audi.
But if I had listened to everything that people told me throughout my life, I would have died in early 2005, and besides, coloring outside the lines is something I have always excelled at, so when it comes to watching my grandsons play like this, I love to live the whole thing vicariously.
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