Around the World in 44 Years

After all these years the bug has finally made it home. It wasn't easy. Odysseys are never easy. Why should they be? During the Cold War, and later, in Ukraine, driving near the exclusion zone, the bug was exposed to radiation. Japan is another story. The earthquake there was long after the bug had completed a cargo ship journey. I owned a similar 1967 bug a half-life ago. This one is in better condition and took decades to reach me. One of its owners put it in storage for some years. Another passed away after disassembling the engine, guts strewn on a garage floor five years after the owner's passing. I have chosen to adorn the bug with original bumper and hubcap jewelry, celebrating its junket to me.

25 Years

Will we have one of these things every 25 years? If we sign on to wind and solar now, at least we will have done something to spare future generations from these terrible mistakes.

Styrofoam

Although from opposite sides of the aisle, newly elected representatives Mary and Tom often had lunch together in the House Cafeteria. Nothing political, but they both drank tea.
"Ahha," said Tom recently at the lunch counter, "Our new house leaders have seen fit to bring back the Styrofoam cups your party tossed in favor of the so-called green paper cups."
"In that case I'm switching to coffee," said Mary.
Tom laughed. "To protest our Tea Party, I assume?"
"No, I take lemon in my tea, and as any tea drinker knows, the acid eats away at the Styrofoam."
"Well then, I guess I won't have lemon in my tea," said Tom.
Yeah," said Mary. "Not having lemon is a little thing. Maybe you could one-up Obama's We Do Big Things slogan."
"How's that?"
"We Do Little Things?"

Snowplow

In rural Michigan where I live, truck plows are sometimes replaced by more serious plows. Oftentimes we humans find it necessary to use a larger stick or, as indicated by the color on this one, carrot. The driver of this carrot waved and smiled like mad as I ran out of the way with my camera. The dog is smarter than me, she stayed back up the driveway.

Why We Fight

Here is a short short story (exactly 100 words) I wrote for a contest:

We Fight For Air

The armored vehicle is superheated, making breathing difficult, especially with diesel fumes seeping inside. When the radioman riding shotgun yells, "IED!" the lieutenant glances up toward the gunner's ivory tower.
"Anything?"
"Sky and sand! Wait! There it is!"
"Smoke?"
"Yeah!"
The lieutenant reaches between driver and shotgun, tracing a frantic circle with his hand, a fan made of flesh. When the vehicle lurches ahead, it seems a shockwave at first. But soon the lieutenant feels a fresh breeze from the ivory tower as they make speed. Breathing the breeze is a moment to be savored before their arrival in hell.