Pink easter

Easter holidays are awesome. No need to wind the alarm clock. Rainy mornings turning sunny. Daddy took days off from his biz trips. Time to get dirty, mom knew what he meant as we laid plans for our day.

Drive to the company. With the usual stop at the tank station to fill up and purchase sodas, snack bars and other supplies for an exciting day.

Then the autobahn.

Dad drove an unobtrusive blue VW model K70. Which somehow accelerated and went significantly faster than the other cars. Yes. He was a mechanical engineer.

The workshop was an enchanting place. All kind of machinery, hydraulics, winches, welders, generators, lathes, milling machines... And that almost hidden spot, a remote corner in the huge hall.

The place where our family transportation could reveal it's secrets. Dad had a hobby, quite unusual back then. He was mighty good at tuning cars.

You boys must be very hungry, said mom when we showed back that evening.

But first, she added looking at me, please take out that bag from upstairs, would you dear ?

Clothes were never thrown away. They were neatly stacked in appropriate plastic bags and taken on the street where, on specific days, a charity organization would pick them early in the morning.

The bag was not really heavy, pretty much as all the other bags I have taken out, the usual house routine.

In the staircase I felt dizzy. Had to stop almost out of breath. Turned around, someone was whispering my name. Calling softly with insistence. Saying things I could not understand.

Why was that bag glowing pink ? Was it a prank, mom hiding a transistor radio of sorts inside of it?

Reality came back as quickly as it had shifted. No more whispering and that bag was just another ordinary bag.

Except that it never ended on the street. It was safely hidden, stowed deep inside my canoe in the garage, awaiting further investigation.