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05 July 2017

185/365

Some people like the pop-pop-pop of the Roman candle, bursts of color exploding in the air. Kids of all ages enjoy waving the sparklers, using neon script to write their name in the air. The changing colors of the fountains always bring an oooh and an aaah. My dog, he could do without, running to get closer to us in shaking tremors at the first whistle of explosives in flight.

But me, my favorite? The Fire Engine. Have you seen it? It's just a little box, a red cardboard rendition on tiny black plastic wheels. But the entertainment value of this little guy? Super high! You first light fuse at the back and the truck propels forward with a stream of red flame sizzling out the back. Next the headlights light up bright, complete with sparks; then the top siren neon lights fire up. And finally, best of all, the ladder on the top pops up!

Last year, I bought fireworks, but then we never used them. We really aren't supposed to light up inside the city limits where I live. We got home late after the party last year and deemed my quiet cul-de-sac much too still for pyrotechnics. My birthday was the next likely date, but something happened and the displays never were set.  So they waited patiently in a plastic bag on top of the freezer, pink sticks peeking out in ready anticipation. This Independence Day, I used up my last Fire Engine, and immediately, I wished I could watch in delight one more time. So I quickly scooted over to the nearby stand to get another before the clock struck midnight. Alas, "We didn't get that one this year." No Fire Truck for sale?!

You are missing out, Black Cat.

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