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Distant Lands

Monday, 22 October 2007

An Ode to my (former) stroller

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Aachen, Germany
That first black Maclaren umbrella stroller still gets us all misty-eyed when we think of how well it traveled.

The seat fully reclined - none of the click-strap stuff from later models - and the hood extended way out. Diaper changes - not a problem; it was the perfect place for a pit-stop. Naps in the afternoon? We were free to keep wandering, without disturbing her. Rain? No worries. The clear plastic hood kept her dry while we (sometimes) got soaked. She thought that was hilarious.
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Orewa Beach, New Zealand


It opened fast, and folded up with one hand (after reading the manual a couple of times) - so small that we could leave it with the folks at a gate and have it waiting for us the next gate - huzzah.

We test flew with it to Cleveland in 2005, then a month later, packed it with us to New Zealand. Two days later, I was truly in love. She greeted the world from its seat - at 11 months, 24 days: Fijians playing ukuleles at 5:30 am; guysers erupting at Te Puia; a nap during my sister's wedding reception outside of Auckland.

Another year, and we were off again - to Germany (another wedding) and France (no way were we going all the way to Europe without spending at least a couple days in Paris). The stroller had to be nearing 100,000 miles by then. She danced at this wedding, and crashed before the last toast - in the stroller.

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Aachen, Germany


She was walking more, but long day-trips still required a mid-day siesta, and the stroller let us out in the world, while she slumbered. Plus it was good exercise to push it up one side of the Seine and down the other. A long trip to Versailles, crowded with tour buses, was saved by the stroller: it allowed us to walk far from the crush of people, and discover Marie Antoinette's estate and its quiet charm.

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Versailles, France


The stroller survived two years on our neighborhood's cobblestone streets, two international trips, at least 14 airports, and the French TGV train (also wonderful). Its last adventure was through baggage at LAX, where it got on a little banged up, but still rolled; and when we claimed it in New York, we came to a realization: it had taken its last trip.

She would have outgrown it by now, but we miss it still.
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Versailles, France
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Orewa Beach, New Zealand
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Orewa Beach, New Zealand
Posted in [none] by Fran W. at 1:46 PMPermalink

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