Infamous Orange Tape

     I always knew summer had started when I saw grandma back up our 1/4 mile, uphill driveway. Excitement and anticipation would make me restless as I opened up the duck taped, rusty door and hopped into the back seat of that quaint, green car.  My seat always had a trace of grandma's disorganization and rummage sale addiction. It was not uncommon to find three pairs of sunglasses or a few knickknacks she had just purchased scattered across the floor, inside the pockets of the seat or on the rear window ledge. 
     Seeing great grandma Stella in the front seat, adorned in her sequence shall, (known to the less thrifty person as a yard of fabric cut straight from the bolt and draped carefully over the shoulders) waiving her makeshift fan, (a bingo card glued to a Popsicle stick) always brought comfort to me. 
    After pushing the clutter to the other side of the car and buckling in, the first thing out of my mouth would always be "Put in the orange tape! Put in the orange tape!" Grandma would sift through her cluttered center console and pop in the infamous orange tape.  Without a doubt I would begin my car ride with an inspired rendition of "There's a Hole in the Bucket" and then move on to "You Can't Get to Heaven on Roller Skates."  Singing along to that orange tape the whole 4 miles to the Lomira Pool.