Fresh Tar Road

Every time I smell the aroma of fresh tar-"like just now, hence this story" I close my eyes and I'm immediately transported back to the summer of 1973, it was the first time they ever paved my road in Plymouth Massachusetts, I was all of 6 years old. I had my Evel Knievel jacket, my dog Puppa running beside me as I rode my new 3 speed Schwinn bicycle with the banana seat & the bright 5' orange flag pole attached to the sissy bar on the back.

Once mom let us out I grabbed that bike & flew down the dirt driveway for the very first time almost crashing because I misjudged the mound of tar merging onto the brand new tar road, somehow I didn't crash, I pedaled like crazy after catching my balance trying to catch up to my older brother Scotty, I watched his rear tire give the brand new tar a squiggly brown dirt mark that faded the further we rode.

I would look behind myself to see if my back tire was laying down the same dirt mark that my brothers rear tire was. I smiled to see that it was indeed. Not sure why I needed such validation of meaningless things or why it was so important to me at the time, but it was none the less.

Now, every time I smell the aroma of fresh tar-like just now, "hence this story" I close my eyes and I'm immediately transported back to that summer in 1973, I call it the smell or remembrance, we were unstoppable, we could traverse the world on that freshly paved tar if we had the time we thought.

It was soo smooth that it made going uphill a piece of cake. We rode up & down that road for hours faster each time until we heard our Mom calling for us for supper from the front steps of our house at the top of her lungs. She'd scream "SCOTTTYYYY / RICKKKKY, SUPPER " We could hear that call half a mile away. In fact, all the parents in the neighborhood called their kids the same way, there were no cell phones, no beepers back then. "How did we ever survive?"

Funny how the simple smell can bring back so many clear, precise memories that 5 minutes earlier was the furthest thing from my mind.
Perhaps this is what they mean when they say "Take time out to smell the roses" except my roses just happen to be fresh tar?

Sincerely
~Rick McCall