The Wild Downhill Ride

Mrs. Potts was lonely. The winter was long and cold, the days were dark and short, and snow kept hanging onto the streets like the remnants of an old, torn coat.

The phone rang. Mrs. Deer’s voice came over the line. “Come on over for a bowl of stew and cornbread.”

“Sure,” Mrs. Potts said, “I will if I can make it. The sidewalk is slick.”

Mrs. Deer laughed. “I’m just across the street, ‘Fraidy. Come on.”

So, Mrs. Potts went. When she got there, the house was warm and the stew and cornbread were good and soon Mrs. Potts felt less lonely. After lunch, Mrs. Deer carried a big, covered basket out to her car in the garage, came back inside, and said, “Let’s go for a ride.”

“What?” Mrs. Potts said. “Have you noticed the icy streets? Have you heard how people are being advised to stay inside? We’re senior citizens, you know. We, especially, should stay inside where it’s safe and warm.”

Mrs. Deer laughed. “Millicent can handle any slick street,” she said.

Mrs. Potts shook her head. Mrs. Deer put a lot of store in that big, ancient heavy car of hers. Too much store, to Mrs. Potts’ way of thinking. But, Mrs. Potts was tired of staying in all winter, so she reluctantly put her coat and boots back on and climbed into the car named Millicent with Mrs. Deer.

The streets were, indeed, snowy, but Mrs. Deer laughed and said, “Millicent can handle it.” So, Mrs. Potts hung on and prayed.

Soon they got to the top of a snowy hill. A partial barricade of some sort had been moved partway across the street.

“We can’t go down that hill,” Mrs. Potts said. “It is too dangerous. See the barricade?”

“Oh,” Mrs. Deer said, “that’s just to keep others off this hill, others who have lesser cars. It would indeed be dangerous for them, but not for us. Millicent is not afraid of a snowy hill.”

“But…” began Mrs. Potts as she felt her heart rate speed up. That was all she had time to say before they were off. Down the hill they went, faster and faster until the street was a blur. Mrs. Potts grabbed the arm rest and closed her eyes. Millicent seemed to leave the road and float until, suddenly, they came to a smooth and comfortable stop.

When Mrs. Potts could speak, she whispered, “Where are we?”

Mrs. Deer smiled. “We’re at the park, of course. We’re going to have a picnic.”

That’s where they were. Park benches were snow covered, but they brushed all that away, sat down, and Mrs. Deer opened the basket she had put in the car before they left.

They had hot chocolate and more stew and chocolate cake. Snow birds came and pecked at the crumbs. A squirrel skittered down the tree to keep them company. And, then a policeman sauntered over, a puzzled look on his face.

“You ladies like to picnic in the dead of winter when it’s thirty degrees and you’re being advised to stay indoors?” he asked.

Mrs. Deer nodded. “Oh, yes, officer. Would you like to join us?”

“You remind me of a kindergartener I used to teach,” Mrs. Potts said. For some reason, she felt strangely warm and elated and not a bit frightened.

“Well,” he scuffed the snow with his boot. “Okay. Don’t mind if I do. What I really wanted to know, though, is if you ladies have seen anything strange? I’ve gotten several reports of a low-flying plane or a UFO or something that evidently came along this way. Have you seen anything like that?”

Mrs. Potts and Mrs. Deer shook their heads. 

“I didn’t see any tire tracks in the snow on the hill,” he said, “or I’d be forced to write you a ticket because that hill is off limits.”

Mrs. Potts gulped. No tire tracks? Could it be that they had really flown down that hill?

Soon, the nice policeman left and Mrs. Potts looked at Mrs. Deer. “No tire tracks?” she asked.

Mrs. Deer laughed. “No tire tracks. I told you that Millicent could handle it.”