I Wanna Drive the Zamboni

Whenever I walk past the Boston Common skating rink, which I do twice a day, and the zamboni is out, all eyes are glued to the ice. Passersby stare at the zamboni, slackjawed, like children in Toys R Us. So enthralled are they by this ice-resurfacing vehicle that they trip over things, crash into one another, tumble down small embankments. And I can't blame them.

What is it about the zamboni? I too, since the hockey games I went to when I was little, have always been echanted. Is it the mystery? (How exactly does a zamboni do what it does?) Is it that one drives a zamboni standing up? Is it the crystal path it leaves in its wake? Are we intrigued by its potential, its ability to restore things fresh and new?

Whatever the reason, it's safe to say that the zamboni is a vehicle of dreams and dreamers. Moreso than the Space Shuttle or a Stealth bomber, our collective human imagination belongs to this ridiculous, beautiful smoother of ice.