Tar Bubbles

   The heat this summer reminded me of hot summer days when I was a kid.  After breakfast, we were sent outside and couldn't come back in until lunchtime.  We'd ride our bikes around our block, neighboring blocks, and sometimes several blocks away into the unknown - neighborhoods where the dogs didn't know us and would chase us as we rode past at breakneck speed.
   Then we'd head back to our neighborhood and find other things to do, maybe having water pistol fights, running through neighbors' sprinklers, and getting chased out of the yards of the older people, scattering in different directions.  Sometimes we'd play catch - something I could do all day long, given the chance.
   But on really hot days, we'd pop the bubbles in the tar in the street.  On our street, we didn't really have potholes, because cracks got filled with tar before they got larger and became holes.  And on warm days, the tar would soften, then bubbles would form as it got hotter.  We'd pop the bubbles with our toes.  And sometimes, if the tar was fresh, I remember getting a little of it, working it in my fingers to get little bits of grit out, and then chewing on it.
   Bad idea?  Probably.  But it was something to do on a hot summer day.