Showing posts with label drip dry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label drip dry. Show all posts

Monday, January 3, 2011

Drowning Standing Up

The coldest and wettest I have ever been was when we were hitchhiking in the Loire Valley in November 1961.

We were given a ride by a young man who started out friendly, but then got too amorous.

Here’s what I wrote: “He pleaded that since it was getting so late and so dark we’d have trouble getting another ride, but if we would let him share our hotel room, he’d drive us all the way, anywhere, himself. He probably would have, but we ended the ride on the banks of the Loire. There was no town or village nearby, just the river and the road and us.

“It was then five o‘clock, two hours’ travel to anywhere at all, plus it was raining again and getting dark. Up the road a half mile was a small combination inn and gas station that turned out to be home base for the coldest, wettest, most miserable fifty minutes I have ever spent! It didn’t help that my coat wasn’t waterproof or that the wind was icy, or that only a single light was on in the inn with no-one inside.

“Hope flickered each time headlights flashed through the rain. We waved, jumped up and down, looked pitiful, but either they didn’t see us in time or didn’t want the company of our misery. Mary even took to waving a dainty lace handkerchief. No luck. I wondered what the authorities would do with the bodies of two soggy young girls who had drowned standing up.

“Finally, a Knight in Shining Armor riding a Snow White Charger rescued us! He was actually driving a huge warm dry truck heading toward Angers where we arrived at nine o’clock. God bless truck drivers!”

I know it will be cold and rainy this time around, too. However, this is 2011 and miracle fabrics will keep me toasty and dry, even my feet.

Modern clothes wash easily and dry overnight. Back in 1961 “drip-dry” was a recent invention that took forever to dry and wrinkles were eternal. Now, everything can go un-ironed, even cotton. Wrinkles are OK, even on faces. I hope that last statement is true because I can't iron out my face.

Fact: Back in 1961 we hitchhiked in skirts and tights, black tights. No pants. That’s right, no pants in France. Watch the movies from that era and you will see Doris Day wearing skirts, hats and gloves in The Man Who Knew Too Much. Audrey Hepburn was almost always in a dress. So, like movie stars, we wore skirts. We weren’t odd. We would have blended in except for our purple tennis shoes.

This time, I’ll be in miracle fabric pants and lots of layers. Spandex! Bravo Spandex! Hiking boots and comfy socks. I love how times have changed!