DIANE MAKAR MURPHY Walking on a brisk day awakens imagination

It's 11 a.m. on the coldest spring day I've ever known. My car is broken (cash is tight), and I volunteered to be afoot -- to walk from Youngstown State University down the hill to The Vindicator.
It was no big deal the day I promised it, when a gentle breeze blew through my bedroom window. I in my shorts, my husband in his T-shirt. The lawn freshly mowed. The sun glorious in the sky.
Now I'm wearing a dress, marching across concrete tundra, my only shield the green corduroy shirt my husband lent me. The sun is gone and the wind is picking up.
As I leave the English Department, a gust hits me on the side of the head, and I'm knocked a little sideways. Great, I think, drawing the shirt around me.
I have everything in a rolling backpack today. Usually, I yank the thing along to and from my car, switching to a small carry bag for the newspaper job. YSU colleagues either look at me in envy or amusement, depending on how many books and papers they have to tote that day.
Also inside this rolling office are my dress shoes. I exchanged them for my more comfortable sneakers -- one clean, one the victim of a mud puddle. The carryall is big, its outer zipper opened to expand it.
Today, I'm an air traveler without an airplane. No, today, I'm a bag lady -- big shirt, dirty shoes, everything I own dragged behind me, bumping along the sidewalks.
And the wind blows harder. Snow, I think. Certainly, snow will be coming, not rain. (Did I mention, I am also toting a red and white umbrella? Yes, a bag lady.)
Slight accident: As I hit Rayen Avenue, the bag bounces out of control. It's an 18-wheeler on a rutted road. Drivers stare as I feign unconcern. I wrap my fingers tightly around the handle and try to steady her, but she'll have none of it. "Whoa, whoa baby. Hang in there. No!"
She's upside down in the middle of the road. I pick her up and roll away.
Clickety, clickety, clickety. Now what? It sounds like I'm riding a bike with a baseball card jammed in its spokes. I jack up the bag and kick its tires. Ah-ha! Rock. Wind whips me in a full frontal assault. I wrap the corduroy shirt around me further and roll on.
What's this, a bulldozer and a steam shovel. I'll be darned. I'd like to drive one of those, I think. I wonder, if I told that guy I'm a reporter, would he let me sit in the cab with him? I give it some serious thought. Would it be dangerous? Should I ask right now?
What am I doing!? Ah ... hypothermia is affecting my judgment.
I arrive at Federal Plaza near Bank One. Another gust of wind and my jowls are flapping. What's my hair going to look like, I wonder? Did I use enough mousse this morning? Did I use too much? Suddenly, I'm wondering if your entire scalp can blow off, just up and disappear with your hair style if you mousse it too much. Hmmm.
I'm shivering now. I see a Brinks truck, and I case it. I imagine buying myself a new car. (Now be honest, doesn't everyone fantasize knocking over a Brinks truck? My fellow columnist Gail White says, "No." I'm amazed because I ALWAYS do.)
Wrong choice: I pass the Mahoning County Courthouse and realize I am about to walk down Front Street with a full gale wind whapping me in the side. I should have turned a block earlier where buildings would have shielded me.
Oh well, my bag and I can do this. As I round the corner, I see a beautiful shiny Jeep Grand Cherokee with a "For Sale" sign. Some cruel joke, huh?
A lady and her child pass by. "You probably should have worn a jacket," the woman says. Jacket?! A parka, knit hat, and, soon, snowshoes, lady!
I look up and see a placard -- "Trinity Church." Maybe I should go in ... and pray for a little while. Yeah, that would be really nice. Just go inside and, uh, pray. Pray. I'd like that.
I trudge along. A man is stopped ahead of me, staring at a couple of buildings. I think about the old movie "Out of Towners" and muse that he might mug me. But then, I realize, that would just give me less to carry.
Finally, I near the newpaper's Front Street facility. Earlier, I had imagined slipping out of my nasty shoes and mismatched corduroy shirt before being seen. Not now, not Nanook of the Frozen North, baby. Look at me! Go ahead! I don't care. I made it!
I go inside and make a quick stop in the lady's room. "Well, I'll be darned," I say aloud to the empty stalls. "Not a hair out of place."