Restrictio

Restrictio (re-strik’-ti-o): Making an exception to a previously made statement. Restricting or limiting what has already been said.

I will walk from Boothbay Harbor, ME to Derry, NH, tracing the route my ancestors took when they arrived in the New World. Only, I was going in the opposite direction from the route they took. At the last minute I decided to travel via skateboard to celebrate my late mother’s life-long desire to be a figure skater. Then, I realized that skate boarding and figure skating are two very different things. It would be like celebrating Earth Day by littering. Not a good match.

So, after giving it a lot of thought, I decided to travel by electric scooter. Quiet. Fairly speedy. Easy to ride. Good for the environment. I would carry a back pack with all my essentials—clean underpants and socks, toothbrush & toothpaste, deoderant, wallet, collapsible cup, washcloth, flashlight, chapstick, transistor radio, compass, Preparation-H, iPhone, binoculars, nail clippers, sun glasses, SPF 100 sunscreen, Q-tips, two cans of beans, can opener, water bottle, pen, butt wipes, spork, eye drops, and a Buck knife.

I was packed and ready to go when I reazied I had no idea how I’d keep the scooter charged up. So, I decided to drive my Chevy Impala. I could make it to Derry on one tank of gas and I could load everything in the trunk and bring my dog Chris (short for “Christmas” when I got him as a gift from my wife). I loaded the car, Chris hopped in, and I turned the key. Nothing happened. The impala was dead. I called my mechanic “Bolts” Jackson and he told me he couldn’t come and pick up the car until next week.

I called Uber. For $300 each way they could take me. There were probably better options, but in the state of mind I was in, I couldn’t see them. I just wanted to get to Derry! My wife tried to talk me out of my pilgrimage, but she failed. I was going! We got about 10 miles out of Boothbay Harbor when the Uber driver pulled onto the road shoulder. He pointed a pistol at me and said “I’ll take that $300 now.” I told him I was using a credit card and said “Asshole” and kicked me out of the car and took off. I walked to Freeport, to LL Bean’s.

OMG! There was a car from Rhode Island in the parking lot with the keys in the ignition. I jumped in and turned the key. A siren went off and red smoke started billowing out from under the hood. But, the car had started! I jammed it in drive and took off for Derry. Thank god they don’t have live toll takers on the Turnpike in Maine and New Hampshire. The car was still smoking and the siren wailing when I got to Derry. I jumped out and ran to the docks where my ancestors landed. There were no docks. Derby is inland. There’s a lake nearby and that’s it. It was heartbreaking. One thing I know for sure, 1697 was when they landed/arrved there. They were all convicts in a “company” from Scotland who were sent to the New World to “Make Scotland great again.”

I hitchhiked back to Boothbay Harbor. I got a ride with a lobster buoy salesman. They were custom pained to “your specifications.” They are made from “iron-lite” rock-hard styrofoam guaranteed to float for 500 years. They could be passed down through generations as a sort of family lobster-loom. His name was “Red” and he travelled up and down the coast from New York to Maine. The name of his business was “Bobbing Buoys.” He asked me if I wanted to be his sidekick. Given what I had just been through, I eagerly accepted. After six months, I discovered that he was selling special bouys that could be used to sell drugs. The buoys were hollowed out with trap doors. They were filled with ziplock bags loaded with cocaine or ecstasy and “hauled” by customers. Red didn’t handle any drugs, just the hollowed-out buoys.

I decided I didn’t want to live so close to criminality. Accordingly, I quit Bobbing Buoy. I went to work for “Red’s Eats” in Wiscasset. I’ve moved my family into a trailer in Back Narrows. Strangely enough, Red is my landlord. He drives a Cadillac now with a gold lobster buoy hood ornament and a horn that plays “Sea Cruise,” sung by Freddy Canon in the sixties. Ewwweee baby!

Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

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