Whatever Blows Your Skirt Up

Written By Deborah Soltis

Whatever Blows Your Skirt Up

I remember hearing that expression as a child. I never really knew where it came from. I just understood it meant something that made you happy.

I feel that—literally and figuratively—every time I drive my convertible.

After years of driving practical cars that hauled children, groceries, sports equipment, and everything else a busy family required—

When we moved to Florida, I wanted something fun.

A little convertible.

Not because it was practical. Quite the opposite.

I wanted to feel the sun on my shoulders and the breeze in my hair. I wanted to hear the birds instead of the radio.

So each morning after tennis, I wind slowly through the quiet streets of the club's neighborhood. Palm trees sway overhead, sprinklers hiss across emerald lawns, and neighbors pedal by on their morning ride. 

Then I turn towards home.

The road opens up.

I press the accelerator.

For just a few glorious seconds, the little car seems to grin right along with me.

And the wind catches the hem of my tennis skirt.

It blows my skirt up.

I laugh out loud every single time.

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