Turn the Radio Up

On the way home from work today I passed a man headed in the opposite direction. He appeared to be in his forties. Probably around 350 pounds. And driving one of those power wheel chairs. You know, the kind advertised on TV by two elderly women who ride their chairs all the way to the edge of the Grand Canyon and sing out "HoverRound-!" (echo echo echo) I guess they'll take you anywhere so long as you've got the time.
It's a shame that this fellow doesn't have anywhere better to be than Podunk, USA. Then again, maybe he was headed off on some great adventure and I just happened to catch him at an awkward moment. He had his headlights on and an American flag flying from a pole, like the triangular flag that your all-American boy of the 50s had on the back of his bike.
Perhaps he is on his way up North. I mean way up North, to the land of igloos and dog sled teams and Northern Lights. It has been his life-long dream to participate in a dog sled race, and now with his new power chair he can do all that and more. He will not only participate in the race, he will win with record-breaking speed, all the time his little flag waving- a proud indicator of his heritage, a beacon to all American youngsters who dare to dream big: Go ahead, kids, supersize your meals!
Then again, maybe he was just heading towards the little diner on Main Street to shoot the breeze and chew his cud and engage in various other aspects of friendly country society over a big, home-cooked supper. Chair, flag, biscuits'n'gravy. Welcome to the South.