Saturday!!!! My Saturday!!!

As everyone already knows, there are seven days in a week. In a normal person's life, those days might be divided into three categories: work, personal, and reverence. For me, they were divided the same way. Mondays to Fridays were fine. When I got to a Monday, I couldn't wait for a Friday. After Friday came MY day. SATURDAY!

Why is Saturday so important to me? Well as far back as I can remember, it was always a party day for me. In fact, I was born on a Sunday. What's the connection? The day before was a Saturday. Still don't get the connection? Simple. The Saturday before I was born was my last day in the womb. Yup, I partied hardy in Mommy's womb that day. I was probably conceived on a Saturday just nine months before. I am sure that my mom and dad partied hardy one Saturday night and... well, we will just leave that alone, but I am sure that you get the idea.

As far back as I can remember, Saturdays were always the party days. It was the actual first day off from school that week I used to wake up to a huge WHEW each week because I did not have to rush to school. I did not have to do any homework because I had completed it as soon as I got home from school the day before. Saturday was going to be MY time. Prior to high school, I had all sorts of activities mapped out on Saturdays. I'd play on the baseball team. I'd ride my bike. I'd hang out with my neighborhood buddies. Sometimes, if the weather was inclement, I'd get some television viewing in as well.

Just before I started high school, we Catholics were afforded the opportunity to go to church on Saturday nights instead of Sunday mornings if we wished to do so. As a result, Saturdays took on a new meaning for me. I would do the same things and add going to church as a part of my Saturday afternoon/evening ventures. After that was done, I felt a huge relief because I was suddenly able to modify my Sundays as well. My music lessons and anything else I wanted to do would be left for the Sundays. This opened up a whole new dimension to my weekend.

As I got older — college age — my Saturdays sort of changed. They became my priority days, days in which I had an agenda to accomplish. I wanted, for example, my college degrees. In order to do that, I had to study. In college, the extra study meant that I had to go to the campus library. The best day to do that was on Saturday and, sometimes, on a Sunday as well. In order to pursue my goal, I had to do what I needed to do. My calculation paid off.

Even though my Saturdays turned my five day work week into a six-day work week, it wasn't as strenuous as it sounds. On Saturdays, unlike the regular work week, I worked at my own pace. If I wanted to work for just an hour in the library, I did so. If I wanted or needed more hours, I afforded myself some more time. Most of the time, I went there as early as I could because I am an early bird. If I wanted to get there at noon instead, I got there at noon. It was up to me and I loved it.

After graduation, I modified my Saturdays even more. I dropped baseball and played softball which I found to be much easier on my aging body. Mondays to Fridays were still my work days, but Saturdays were now the days when I did long distance bike training due to the fact that I entered the United States Cycling Federation. I was training intensely for bike racing on the weekends. This was to cap off my training rides during my work week.

I maintained my Saturdays like this for many years much to my delight.

When I learned to drive and earned my drivers license, I had to get a car. a few years after I got a reliable car-a 1976 Capri II with a 4-speed stick shift and a V6 engine-I decided that I reached a level of coolness. I decided to come up with an ultimate Saturday just for me. I read up on some place called Atlantic City. To me, it was the Las Vegas of the East Coast. I really wanted to go there and gamble some bucks, but how? Easy!! I found a lovely lady named Rosemary who lived across the street from the school I worked in at the time. She was a nurse and one day, I decided to ask her out. Well, she did not find me to be too hideous and agreed to go out with me.

One time when I took her out to dinner, she told me about Atlantic City. I was surprised because I wanted to go there, as I explained earlier. She used to drive us there after a while in her little French car — a 1983 Renault Encore. It was a nice car, but I felt that my lime green Capri II could do a much better job. The only question left was not how, but when. The answer — one Saturday evening, of course!!!

I set it up PERFECTLY!!! I got up that Saturday of the trip. I had my car given a special service by my mechanic. I wanted my car prepped like it was going to race at LeMans. I had EVERYTHING done — oil changed, tune up, vital fluids topped off, belts and hoses checked and double checked, and tires replaced if necessary. I wanted my car fully functional like it just had just rolled off the assembly line and very race ready like I was. I even installed a new AM/FM cassette radio, four stereo speakers, and a radar detector in it myself. This car was awesome!

That was my Saturday morning of the trip. Mom and I went to church that evening. So far, everything was going as planned. After church, I picked up Rosemary and her Mom so that the four of us could drive to A.C.

In short, it was the best Saturday and the best drive of my entire life. I enjoyed the drive from New York City to Atlantic City and back to NYC. I had the best sportscar-like vehicle I have ever owned. Frank Sinatra tapes were playing on my new radio. Mom was happy in the back seat. I had for a very short time a paramour, too. Yup. That was my best Saturday ever.

Now, it is 2018. I haven't been to Atlantic City in a quarter of a century. My parents have passed away rather recently. Sinatra is gone, too. The Capri has been long gone. Rosemary has probably married and raising a family. I am probably too gruesome to date anymore. However, I still attend church on Saturdays. So, at least one part of my Saturdays remained the same.

So, that is my history of Saturdays. I enjoyed them all, but Saturday is my personal day. Maybe I will get a whole new Saturday in my next life. Oh, wait! You will only get one go around in life. Saturdays refreshed my batteries so that I could prepare for a new week. I loved my Saturdays. At least I made my Saturdays good ones.

My Saturday!!!