“Life is a Highway“ sung Tom Cochrane an often overlooked Canuck musical vagabond. Cochrane will forever be a poor Canadian Man's Bryan Adams. My point? If life is indeed a highway that we are all on, then Parents are the Petrol Station.
One of the joys of reproducing this year has been entry into that elite social class of Humans with offspring. This membership allows you to make all sort of smug, self righteous and half-thought through claims about the general state of humanity, all owing to the fact that you made a hobby kit human of your own. I can see from my limited time as a Dad that my path is fairly set in regards to providing for Archer and any brothers or sisters he may collect along the way. This role requires me to provide for his basic needs. And what does any commuter on the M3 of Existence require? A regular stop at the Servo.
We pull into these Service Stations, literally run by Mum and Pop, for the minor and the major, whenever we need to escape the rush of the road or fuel up before setting off. Here we can refuel our tanks, wash our windscreens and grab a cold can of comfort. It’s also a great place to get directions if you happen to be a bit lost or grab some Milk (bit weird after the age of 2).
Perhaps the best offering of theses Mum and Pop Service Station is the Air. Free Air. There comes a time when we all get a little flat in the tyres, and the first place we head is the service station. If a kid can’t get the occasional tyre pump from Mum + Pop Service Station Inc, then who can he rely on? Anyone can let your tyres down, but only at the service station can you get them pumped up. For free.