Short Story for May 2002

SPRING DEPARTURE

by
Ken Ayling

It was early spring when Ken decided to leave; only at first he didn’t know it.  The blossom was early that year, the Azaleas and Magnolias were already turning brown and the Rhododendrons were just starting to come out to replace them.

Ken climbed in and started the engine, just as he had done a thousand times before on his way to work.  He pulled out of his driveway and before he realised what he was doing he turned right and headed in the wrong direction.  He mentally chided himself for being half asleep and then subconsciously plotted the alternative route to put himself back on course.

“Turn left at the end of the road and left again” he thought to himself.

At the end of the road he turned left OK, but then at the next junction without thinking, he turned right.

“Damn” he muttered under his breath.

He was now heading directly away from work and he knew he was going to be late.  Where the local roads ended and the main A27 started Ken knew he had his last chance to divert back to work for over eleven miles.

“Take the third exit,” his mind screamed at him, as his hands turned the wheel to take him down the first.  Committed now, with 11 miles to ponder his mistakes, he settled down to the steady hum of the engine, cruising effortlessly at 70mph on the relatively quiet dual carriageway.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to just keep on going” he speculated wistfully with a guilty smile .

“Not really a sensible option” he mused, being a creature of rigid habit.

He switched the radio on to Radio 2, tweaked the volume up to a comfortable level that just covered the road and engine noises, and settled back in his seat.  It was a bright and sunny morning that made driving a pleasure.

An hour later he absently glanced up and read the road sign: ‘Brighton 2 miles’.

“Making good time,” he lazily thought.  But then…

“Brighton!!” his mind screamed.

“Bloody hell, what am I doing this far west.  What happened to Chichester, where I could have turned round and gone back to work, albeit late.”

He searched his memory frantically trying to remember passing through it.

“Damn, what do I do now?” he thought.

“I’m fifty miles from home and sixty from work”

His mind was in turmoil.

“Cup of tea darling?” a distant voice from behind him said.

“Huh?” he absent mindedly replied.

“Tea?” The voice repeated, clearer and more insistent.

“Uh, yes please.” He responded uncertainly.

“We should be in Dover by ten with a bit of luck” the voice said.

As he came to a halt at the red traffic lights he pulled himself round in his seat and stared behind.  He was greeted by the sight of the spacious interior of his vehicle and his wife Janet putting the kettle on.

“You all right Ken?” she said with a concerned voice.

“Yes, fine, .. fine.” He repeated.  “Just enjoying the first day of my retirement in our new motorhome.” He continued.

He turned back round as the lights changed to green, slipped the Swift Kon-Tiki into first gear and pulled away, feeling much more relaxed than he had felt since he had left home.

“Should make the half past ten ferry,” he said almost to himself and then added almost as an afterthought, to his wife behind him “If we don’t get held up by people going to work!! 

The End, (For now!)

©Ken Ayling 26^th March 2002