Every weekend, I roll to the farmer’s market. Rain or shine. Summer and winter. I’m lucky to live in a part of the world where outdoor markets are well-stocked and supported. This time of year, I go for Nash’s sweet carrots, Russian Kale or Rainbow Chard at Willie Greens, Braeburns from Jerzey Boyz. I’ve come home with seconds of heirloom tomatoes to make conserva. I’ve learned to cook and love celery root. (Ask me for my risotto recipe.) I want to sing the praises of Stokesberry Farm eggs, their speckled shell hiding the most delicious golden yolk.

This weekend at the University District market, I was spotted by a small bespectacled eight-year-old who clapped his hands when he saw me wheel through the gourds and apples and garlic. “Look, Daddy. Look.” He smiled, pointed, and followed me. I slowed so that he could take a good gander. He squatted on his haunches and traced my wheels. He pointed to the brakes. His father picked up the pace and replied, “Cool, eh.” But we all had lists to fill and places to go, so I pushed on to find the next needed item. When I finished my first lap, I encountered that kid again. Dead stop in the middle of the lane. Laughing to himself. Not budging for nothing. I touched his shoulder, “Delighted to meet you.” He giggled and gawked until his father nudged him ahead.

Since then, I’ve returned to that encounter. It moved beyond recognition. It was more like magic. Was I a transformer or action figure made flesh? Was he a budding engineer or aspiring builder? Did he believe he had discovered a mythical being? I thought to ask at the time but doubted he could articulate exactly what fascinated. Sometimes mysteries should stay that way.

There’s no mystery about his effect on me. I was the only wheeled-one at the market that day, and he singled me out for special attention. After our brief encounter, I’ve imagined super-hero names for myself and played out scenarios. Captain Accommodation rescues city after city from flawed curb cuts. Man O’ Wheels counsels students and saves an entire generation from despair. Barrier Smasher uses laser vision to destroy steps and build ramps across the globe.

It’s all how you look at it, folks. You know that. And, for a time, I’ve got eight-year-old eyes that see nothing but wonder.