On A Roll Like That

As I gently rolled my gym bag on wheels up the pitched sidewalk to Bally’s gym, I heard grunting sounds. When I rounded the corner, I saw a young man manually pushing a mid-sized car without its engine on across the width of the gym parking lot. He struggled mightily but seemed determined.

I hollered, “I have jumper cables, buddy. We can turn over the engine that way.”

No response followed. The man continued to expel vast amounts of energy pushing bulk metal. He cried for water.

I thought better of what I asked the moment after the words escaped me. “Do you want me to help you push it?”

I heard another man’s stern voice coming from inside the car. Wearing the crimson garb of a gym employee, he shouted through the downed windows. “Don’t help him. He paid for this personal training session.”

I stood there dumbfounded like the middle-aged out-of-shape person. When I workout, I just don’t roll like that.