Steadier As She Rides

My folks didn’t need to give me much advice when I was growing up. Most of my direction came from the unwritten expectations of the community of Chelsea that guided me through the years:  church and Sunday school, Girls Scouts, and years in school. I willingly followed overt and implied rules that set straight and narrow boundaries for those of us who followed them.  (One expectation was that the boys would break the rules some of the time.  “Boys will be boys” after all.  But, I digress.)

I think the greatest guidance of all came from my dad when he said, “Dead ahead mate, steadier as she rides!”  I knew this wasn’t about riding a horse but rather a metaphor about life.  Although we didn’t talk about it’s meaning, I understood that one should set one’s course with resolve, look straight ahead with conviction, and keep moving forward steadily to achieve what you determined to be your goals.  Keep your eye on your target and move on. Dad wouldn’t have said all that, but his “steadier as she rides” mantra stuck with me all of my life and has come in handy when I've doubted myself and wanted to quit.

Later in his life, Dad began to doubt himself.  I think this self-doubt started when he aged and began to lose his physical abilities.  When my folks moved to Mason and were living across the street from me, I began a project of ripping up the carpeting to have some floors on the main floor refinished.  Of course, I began by getting multiple quotes for the work and chose a contractor who called himself and his company “Mr. Natural”.  His references were good, and despite thinking his company had a goofy name, I contracted with him to refinish floors in two rooms while I was out of town.  Plastic was hung in all the doorways to keep the dust from traveling from room to room, plus  Mr. Natural would “tack” the rooms frequently to keep the dust at bay.

When I came back from my trip it was nighttime, and from what I could see, the floors were beautiful.  Mr. Natural came around the next morning and I paid him.  Unfortunately, I hadn’t really inspected all the aspects of the floor finish, and when I did, I was beyond disappointed. What I discovered as the day went on was a kind of grit in the floor finish..  This kept bothering me over the next few days, so I had two other contractors come over to look at the finish. They both said it was “substandard” and they could “make it right” for X amount of dollars.

Because my folks were nearby, we talked about the situation. It was clear that Dad thought he should be able to make it right. He said he wanted to pay for having the floors redone by someone else.  Although it was a sweet and well-intentioned offer, I felt that the person who should pay for making it right was Mr. Natural.  So, naturally, we headed to court.

In order to do this, I needed to subpoena him as well as the two expert witnesses (contractors) to appeal before a court in Mason overseen by a Magistrate Judge.  The delivery of subpoenas cost quite a bit, so a friend delivered them.

The court day arrived and a friend went to court with me for moral support.  The waiting room was large, and I saw Mr. Natural sitting a fair distance away.  As a result of being nervous, I needed to use the Ladies Room--which, of course, was on the other side of the room with Mr. Natural between me and it.  As I walked across the middle of the room to the much needed relief, my half slip fell down around my ankles.  I quickened my stride, tossed my slip up in the air with one foot, caught it mid-flight, stuffed it into my bag, and kept going.

The expert witnesses offered their testimonies, but I don’t remember what Mr. Natural said in his defense.  The witnesses were convincing enough that the Magistrate ruled in my favor and ordered that I be refunded the cost of the job. 

Yes, Dad, sometimes you have to go steadier as you ride--especially when your slip is around your ankles and there is no hole in the floor where you can escape.