Good deed for the day. But not today.

Driving out Main Street in Lewiston one recent afternoon, I beheld a sight that warmed my heart and stuff. A young man, with a strong jaw and a smile at the ready, guiding a woman of advanced age across the street. You just don’t see that kind of chivalry anymore and it occurs to me that I’ve never personally walked an older person across a street. Clearly that’s got to change. There are karmic points at stake, after all. So, please: if you’re an old person – and the more decrepit the better – I would like to help you get to the other side of the road, whether you need to be there or not. If you find yourself with such a need, please call me so that I might participate in this most noble act. But not before noon. And not when the ballgame is on. And if it’s a sunny day, obviously I’ll be off riding the motorcycle somewhere. Also, I’ve got to work so don’t be hounding me in the middle of the day with your walking needs. Nag, nag, nag. That’s all I ever get from you. Leave me alone, won’t you? I don’t have time for this.

Toll hike

You’ve got to be kidding. As it is, you need to take out a small loan just to drive to Portland and back on the turnpike. There’s got to be a better way to raise money to maintain the highway system. How about a car wash every fifth mile? You put your high school kids out there in their bikinis and cardboard signs, you just know people will stop for those sudsy good times. Or how about only charging those people who get into the passing lane and stay there, despite the fact that they’re still obeying the old 55 mph laws? Charge them and beat them. Or – and this is too good to not be considered – when you pull before the toll booth, the toll keeper asks you a riddle. “What first walks on four legs, then two, then three?” For example. Get it right, you go on your way. Get it wrong, you fork over everything in your wallet, plus your firstborn child. Eh? Eh??

Even Annie wants to punch you

You know those people. Whenever you bitch about the weather, they say – in their sing-song way – “Well, we really needed the rain!” Or “Rain helps the flowers grow!” Or, God help us, “Can’t have a rainbow without the rain!” You want to strangle them with your soaking wet underwear and drop them down a manhole. Well, cheer up, Squishy. I know a lot of people like that and after six days of rainbows, they’re out there swearing at the sky and wringing out their unmentionables in the Walmart restroom just like the rest of us. That thing they say about misery loving company? Totally true.

Joe Cupo wannabes

And what about those aspiring meteorologists among us – those wretches who record the weather reports each night, subscribe to Weather Channel feeds and keep WeatherBug cranking on their desktops? You mumble a general complaint about your wet socks, they jump in with barometer readings, an analysis of low pressure systems and helpful comments like: “Looks like the rain is going to stick around for another twelve days.” I had a friend like that once. Once.

Treading water

I’m not real keen on getting soaked in the rain, but mud puddles are okay and so are dunk tanks. And speaking of dunk tanks, I’ll be sitting in one at the Business to Business trade show next Thursday at the Colisee, helping the Lewiston-Auburn film festival to raise money for a documentary. I’ll be there from 4:30 til 5:30 p.m., not that you should come by and huck balls at me. There’s just no need of that.

mflamme@sunjournal.com