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09/17/2005: "Drive-Bys"

There's been a new breed of person that I've noticed recently: the Drive-By; a person who's always driven past the store, but never come in. I have to ask, why not?

The simple answer is the construction going on out front. The maze of ribbons and pylons on the sides of the road convince most drivers that there's no way to get into my parking lot. However, the construction workers have left the entrace clear (except for the days when they've got the backhoe there for a digging job!). You can get in and park, and there's a raised gravel path to the door. Not difficult.

The other answer is a bit more complex: I actually think there's something intimidating about a bookstore to some people. For those of poor reading skills, it's a bit embarassing to walk into a place where you don't feel comfortable. I had a customer once who always bought children's books, and later Hardy Boys mysteries, ostensibly for his son. After several months, he admitted that he didn't read well enough for other books. But, I was able to find books which gradually eased him into higher and higher reading levels. The last time I saw him, he was tackling Tom Clancy books with gusto.

Another type of 'drive-by' person is the Procrastinator: "I'll go in there someday," they tell themselves. Months and years pass before they get around to it, and who knows what they've missed? I had such a person recently, who ended up walking out with classics of poetry, and a sheepish expression.

The procrastination comes, I think, from the peace with which routine will give you. Errands, once performed, are laid to rest with the drive home and the glance at the shop, followed by the comforting thought, "Someday I'll stop in." Just remember, though, that once a bookshop closes, it rarely comes back. Then the procrastinator is left with "If Only". If Only I'd gone in; If Only I'd found some books I liked; If Only the store had waited just a little longer, etc. But an opportunity lost is never found again.

When I was about ten, there used to be an antiques shop in town, which, as I recall, had an antique cannon in the front window. I always told myself that one day I would walk in and buy it for myself. I never did, and one day the store closed and the cannon disappeared. I have to wonder if they would actually have sold it to me, a small child with an active imagination. Of course, even if they had, I'm sure the gun was spiked. Fortunately, books cannot be sabotaged! So, all you drive-bys, lay aside your reasons and come inside!