I had gone to Columbus, Ohio, where my mother and my father apparently were living. Early in the morning, after visiting with them briefly, I went out by myself to find something to eat. I walked into a place which looked like a nice bar, but hesitated to stay because it was so crowded. Several lines of people had formed at the bar, and several people behind the bar were taking orders. As I tried to decide whether to stay, many of the people in line looked through the large window outside and suddenly began running out the door without having even given their orders. I quickly walked up to where they had been standing and I soon reached it to the front of a line.
I had decided I wanted some chocolate cream of wheat. I had seen someone else with some in the bar and it looked good. I gave my order, received my food and walked over to a table. But after I had sat down and begun eating, I realized I had actually received a large metal bowl of rice with onion stalks mixed in. I thought at least I was eating something healthy this morning, a reflection of my life in general. But I knew that such wasn't always the case and that I sometimes ate quite poorly.
Most people in the bar were probably in their 20s. I finally understood why so many had suddenly hastened out earlier: a bus had pulled up out front and they had hurried to it. I wondered where they had all been going. It was only about 7 a.m. Some were probably quite ambitious and were off to fulfill their ambitions.
I continued scrapping my spoon on the metal pan trying to get as many of the last grains of rice that I could. On the bottom of the pan all around the inside edge was a groove into which some of the rice had fallen. As I scrapped my spoon, trying to get out the rice, I wondered if anyone else there could hear my scrapping. Finally satisfied that I had eaten almost every grain of rice, I carried my bowl up to the counter and set it down.
***
I was driving through the streets in my car, when suddenly, as I was turning slightly to the left, my wheels locked up. I tired to turn the steering wheel but it wouldn't budge. Just as it looked as if I were going to crash, the steering wheel broke loose and I turned it quickly to the right. But then the same thing happened in that direction and it looked as if I was going to crash to the right. However the steering wheel finally freed up and I was able to proceed normally down the street.
***
I was standing in a lot beside my parked car, talking to a tall, thin black man about the problems I had been having with the car. I wanted him to check the car out. He asked me if my brother had been riding with me when I had had the problem. I told him no. I didn't understand why he wanted to know that, but finally figured it was because he wanted to know if the car was balanced when I had been in it, with someone sitting on each side.
The man quickly put some jacks under all four wheels and pumped it up into the air over our heads. The rods holding it up were quite thin and it looked to me as if the car might totter over. But when it did begin to move slightly, he adjusted the jacks until it was secure.
The car was a black Falcon. It was rather old and I was uncertain I wanted to sink much money for repairs in it. I thought I would find out first what it was going to cost and then decide.
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