It promised to be a long wait at Les Schwab’s yesterday – as much as two-and-a-half or three hours I was told.  I knew it would be – it was one of the last days to remove studded tires and return to normal treads.  Winter, according to the Road Police is over.  I hope they are right.

I came prepared with my latest acquisition from the library – Janet Evanovich’s newest Stephanie Plum novel, “Look Alive Twenty-Five.”  There’s nothing like the zany characters from the Burg in Trenton, New Jersey to help pass the time.  That and the free popcorn and not-too-bad coffee.  And, too, the book was a great distraction from the Fox News on television.

It was crowded – grandmas and grandpas with little kids in tow and young people, perhaps on Spring Break already, and working guys who didn’t seem in much hurry to get back to work.  Almost everyone was busy doing “screen time” as it’s called these days – even the worker bees behind the desk were busy at their computers.  I was the only one with a book (though some people may have had e-books) and there was a man sitting to my right who was just sitting.  Waiting.  He didn’t seem to be watching the relentless TV; perhaps he was people-watching.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said to me as I returned with my second cup of coffee.  “Would you mind handing me my walker?  It’s just beyond my reach.”  And I saw a familiar-looking walker except this one had bright yellow tennis balls affixed to its back legs.

“No problem.”  And as I handed it to him, I asked if he found the tennis balls helpful.  “My husband is using a walker just now and we’ve been wondering about the tennis balls.” I told him.

“I think they’re great,” he said.  “They’re especially helpful on deep-pile or shag carpets and, outside, they help a lot on gravel or rough road surfaces.  You can buy them in cans of six and they’re often on sale.”

I thanked him for the information but he wasn’t quite through.  “One thing, though, with the tennis balls you suddenly become a dog magnet.  Every dog in the neighborhood comes to play when I go outside!”  We laughed and about then his name was called.  He made his way slowly to the desk with his prosthetic leg and walker and bright yellow tennis balls.

When I told Nyel what I had learned, he surprised me by saying that he was thinking of asking some of our tennis-playing friends if they ever have an excess of used tennis balls – more than their dogs might need.  Good idea…