Old School

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I had occasion late Tuesday night to drive around for a while. I put diesel in the car, I dropped by Walmart, I drove the long way home, all the way around Texas Valley

I kind of like driving around late at night like that, when most normal people are in bed. I could almost count on my fingers the number of people I saw. The streets were nearly empty. Traffic lights cycled from red to green, but no one drove through the intersections. The streetlights were on, but with no headlights on the streets, the city looked dark. Rome looked like a movie set after the lights were turned off and all the actors went home.

When you’re driving around those empty streets, you notice every car. If they’re behind you, you notice when they turn off. You see the police officer in his patrol car, and you know he sees you.

The service station was brightly lighted but almost deserted. No one else was at the pumps. The doughnut shop attached to the service station was closing. When I pulled up to the front of the station, the last doughnut shop employee looked out at me and then turned the lights out and disappeared.

I went back towards home and stopped at Walmart to get a couple of unnecessary things. It looks like after 11 PM is a good time to grocery shop at Walmart; no waiting in line. But I kind of doubt that Leah and I will start shopping that late.

As I was walking out of Walmart I heard someone calling something. I heard it twice before I turned around and a youngish man called “Hey, Old School” to me. He said he had walked all the way from his apartment and was short one quarter for what he wanted to buy. I gave him a quarter and asked if he needed more. He thanked me and said no. That was the only time I actually interacted with any person that night.

When I drove out Huffaker Road, instead of turning right onto Fouche Gap and driving the mile and a half up the mountain to our house, I kept going for a few miles to Texas Valley Road. And then, after about five miles, instead of turning right to drive along the mountain and then up the other side of Fouche Gap Road, I kept going straight to make the big loop around Rocky Mountain in the middle of the valley and come back to Fouche Gap Road from the other end.

I have bicycled Texas Valley Road quite a few times, but I couldn’t remember which way the road would turn, and how sharp the next curve was going to be. Along one stretch I had a feeling that the woods were different, but until I pulled sideways across the road to shine the headlights into the forest I couldn’t tell that the whole area had been logged since the last time I was there.

I drove slowly because the road is narrow and winding in some places, and because there are lots of deer around. I didn’t see a single car for the entire 20 miles, or any deer.

I think it was close to 1 AM when I got home. Not that late, but late enough for me.

I forgot about “Old School” until Leah and I were having huevos rancheros Wednesday for lunch at one of our favorite Mexican restaurants, Los Portales. Leah asked what “Old School” meant. I didn’t know, so I looked it up in the urban dictionary. Here’s what it says:

Anything that is from an earlier era and looked upon with high regard or respect. Can be used to refer to music, clothing, language, or anything really.

We had a laugh about that.

6 thoughts on “Old School”

  1. That sounds like quite an interesting journey in the middle of the night. We’re hardly EVER out after dark. Absolutely never past 9:00 pm. It’s so interesting to think of the world after 11:00. I like the meaning of “old school.” I have heard it used to refer to things done in a way that’s “out of date” but still workable. I appreciate the sense of respect that it has. I think it’s pretty cool to be old school.

  2. Robin Andrea — We are almost never out late, either. The feeling reminded me of the times I used to drive deep into the night to get out to New Mexico or Colorado in two days to visit friends.

    When the young man called me Old School, I figured it would at least be considered inoffensive. I have, of course, heard the term, but not used in exactly that sense. I would have figured it was a neutral term meaning something like old fashioned.

  3. Some of my 3:00-in-the-morning runs give this same kind of experience. A sense of being the only person left on the planet. I find it pleasing in a way. If summer ever comes, I’ll begin those early-morning runs again.

  4. Pablo — I was always an afternoon runner but I think I can see the appeal of such an early morning run. I liked the sense of the loneliness of the long distance runner so a night run might be nice.

  5. Many, many years ago, when I was an undergraduate, I used to work as a clerk at a drugstore in a “dicey” neighborhood in Cleveland, Ohio–not really dangerous, but certainly not the best part of town. My family lived in one of the inner ring suburbs, not too far from the drugstore, so I often rode my bicycle to work. I usually worked nights–6 p.m. until 10 p.m.–during my summer breaks from school.

    After work, I often took a very long route home. I would ride down to Case-Western Reserve University and cruise the campus, and then I would bicycle up through the tony eastern suburbs and finally make my way home hours later. As the night got later and later, there would be fewer and fewer cars on the roads. Thinking back on it now, I probably put myself at great risk, but it was a surreal and wonderful experience that I tried to repeat as often as possible.

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