Story-A-Day #7: Track Back

TRACK BACK

He stepped out of the car and towards the building, reaching for the door as he did, but something caught his eye. He turned and saw it there, etched into the snow-dusted ground: a single tire track. The track stretched out from the rear wheel of his car and off into the past.

That tire had been with him on a journey of years. It had carried him to all the places he had been and brought him close to all the people he cared for.

That tire had exerted its tensile capabilities when he was in college. They were at the look out and an impulsive moment with the love of his life and the shocks had put the burden of the moment on the tire while the windows steamed up in their moment of passion.

That tire had brought him to the funeral home and then the cemetery when his grandmother had died, etching a sad trek through the city streets.

That tire had brought him to the airport and waited patiently in the parking lot while he traveled through Europe for three months. When he finally returned, a more rounded and experienced individual, that tire was waiting.

That tire had left a four-foot long piece of its sole on a quiet suburban street when a young girl had run out in front of his car chasing after a leaf.

That tire had switched places with three others just like it to ensure that he had a balanced a safe trip each and every time.

That tire had murdered. It was a small, reckless chipmunk, and an unavoidable accident, but he felt that there was still some residual guilt left from that fateful afternoon.

That tire had carried him from his university graduation on one of his proudest days. It had been there with him as he began a new life of promise and success.

Even thought he had fought against it in a moment of rare humility, that tire had dragged a string of tin cans down a sunny summer lane as he and his beautiful wife set out of town for their honeymoon.

That tire had also got them to the hospital, reckless cutting a swath through traffic and blazing through amber and red lights while his wife huffed, puffed and grunted in the passenger seat next to him.

That tire was responsible for a whole family now. It was a guardian of sorts, a transporter of memories as much as people.

That tire had got him here today, and he wondered where it would bring him next.

With a smile, he clasped his hand on the door and stepped into the building. The tire would be there waiting for him when he returned. He was happy knowing that as much as things changed, that tire would always be there for the next exciting part of the journey.