So, I was driving down Flint Hill Road in my pick-up truck, sweaty and dirty from milking the goats, when I spotted this old metal glider in front of someones house with a plywood sign that said "FREE" on it. You know I stopped, right?
Now, I'm 52 years old and no athlete. Thank goodness I was pumped up from goat-wrestling, because I hefted that green monster into the back of my truck all by my lonesome. It came with two big, flat cushions that seemed solid enough to stay put, so once I had it wedged firmly into the soil and other debris in the back of my truck, I headed on down the road.
It's a sickness, this urge of mine to rescue junk; but in this case, the junk in question was a much coveted piece, one I had envisioned placing under the deck in the shade. I have wanted a place to nap outdoors ever since I left Easton 10 years ago. I had a similar glider then, one that was given to me by my neighbor. I spent many lazy afternoons asleep on that glider, and I missed the experience. It was a no-brainer. It needed to come home with me.