These days I see a new sort of contraption around town.  I hear it’s called a One-Wheeler.  The thing looks sort of like a skateboard, has one big wheel in the middle, is battery powered, and gets its directions on how to motivate by pressure inputs from the feet of the one riding it.  I hear tell that they move upwards of 20 m.p.h., and at that speed, one wrong input will send you flying earthward.

To see those trim teenagers, and even a few older fellows cutting their style with it around town is amazing.  I tip my hat to such.  But it begs a question that often lingers in my mind.  Do those svelte young fellows, with their many abilities, know about a certain talent that I see every now and again in myself and once in a while in others?

Quite simply put, you could say some of us are naturally wobbly.

This talent isn’t bestowed to the masses.  Those that posses it often go unnoticed, unless, of course, they try to ride a One-Wheeler.

The whole scheme of life changes when you are naturally wobbly.  Take, for instance, the other evening at the disc golf course.  My daughter and I were having some quality time together.  We teed up at the first hole; she told me to go first.  I lined up with the basket and let fly with my disc.  Apparently, at the precise moment, or shall we say, mid arc of my launch, one of my wobbly genes also fired.  The disc shot off instantly, and at high velocity, not towards the basket intended but rather at a 90 degree angle to it. 

My daughter happened to be exactly situated in the newly configured flight path.  The look of consternation in her pretty brown eyes is indescribable.  However, once the fight or flight mode had been squelched enough, she dissolved limply upon the grass, laughing until she couldn’t throw a good toss herself. 

Such creativity is enjoyed by, as I mentioned earlier, a select few.  You won’t see the One-wheelers getting into it as they roll on by.  That’s okay, though.  I wouldn’t say it very loud, but I just might be envious of them at times.