Here he comes, walkin’ down the street, gettin’ funny looks from everyone he meets. He is Chicago, USA’s legendary — never sedentary — Walking Man® and he's not bloody Monkee®-ing around! As to his motives, I speak with some authority on the matter — having long walked in an official capacity and now surfed a next generation patrolman's beat — and having suffered countless shin splints, ankle sprains and "carpal tunneling" syndrome — I believe that what propels this heroic, perpetual motion machine is more than a generous sponsorship from Propel® brand water. 'Tis the knowledge that if you’re not moving forward, life can pass you by, and if life passes you by, you may as well be walking backwards, which is dangerous around heavily trafficked areas like Chicago's Millennium Parkway. So the Walking Man walks, his rain-or-shine routine rivaling that of a postman, and his hair hat flopping like an unstitched shoe sole. Any other man stops and talks or dials up that bloody James Taylor "Walking Man" song on his Walkman™ portable stereo, but the Walking Man walks! He ignores the catcalls of the office birds lusting after his sweet chocolate moustache. He obeys the traffic signals along Chicago's Golden Coast. And he walks. Bravo, Citizen Biped™.Monday, June 8
The Walking Man
Here he comes, walkin’ down the street, gettin’ funny looks from everyone he meets. He is Chicago, USA’s legendary — never sedentary — Walking Man® and he's not bloody Monkee®-ing around! As to his motives, I speak with some authority on the matter — having long walked in an official capacity and now surfed a next generation patrolman's beat — and having suffered countless shin splints, ankle sprains and "carpal tunneling" syndrome — I believe that what propels this heroic, perpetual motion machine is more than a generous sponsorship from Propel® brand water. 'Tis the knowledge that if you’re not moving forward, life can pass you by, and if life passes you by, you may as well be walking backwards, which is dangerous around heavily trafficked areas like Chicago's Millennium Parkway. So the Walking Man walks, his rain-or-shine routine rivaling that of a postman, and his hair hat flopping like an unstitched shoe sole. Any other man stops and talks or dials up that bloody James Taylor "Walking Man" song on his Walkman™ portable stereo, but the Walking Man walks! He ignores the catcalls of the office birds lusting after his sweet chocolate moustache. He obeys the traffic signals along Chicago's Golden Coast. And he walks. Bravo, Citizen Biped™.