Wandering through a flea market one rainy Saturday, you find yourself drawn to a cluttered booth filled with teetering towers of boxes and bins. Castaway organs of engines and the rusty innards of discarded toasters hang lifeless from the edges of sagging crates. Among the disarray a man in a dusty three-piece suit beckons mysteriously. A sly smile spreads across his crinkled face as he gestures toward a large object hidden under a greasy blanket.

Intrigued, you approach cautiously. He lifts a corner of the blanket revealing a brass machine spotted with complicated controls and two thick glass windows. He shakes your hand vigorously and invites you to investigate his machine while he whispers secretively of its purpose.

He can tell you are a person of rare courage and curiosity, the sort of person with the intelligence to buy such a fine time machine. He fills your young mind with fabulous adventures at King Arthur's court, front row seats at the first Olympic games and a climb up the Sphinx with the young King Tut, if you are wise enough to purchase this treasure.

Your parents look at each other and sigh when they see the tarnished contraption you pull behind you. Your father insists it is not going in the house. Your mother informs you it is the last monstrosity you are bringing home until you get rid of the rest of your useless "treasures."

In the garage you polish your time machine and dream of places to visit and events to witness. That is, until you clean a dial called the Selector. There are only three choices, and they sound like a history assignment your fifth grade teacher cooked up.

Your choices are: 1. Sail with Christopher Columbus 2. See the world with Ferdinand Magellan 3. Journey with Sir Francis Drake

When you rub away the grime from a nearby gauge more hopes evaporate. The gauge registers only enough fuel for one trip. Even one trip triggers your imagination. You imagine yourself on the bow of a fine sailing ship. The sea breeze lifts your hair and fills the snapping sails, a long journey across uncharted oceans...low supplies...restless crews...mutinies... It occurs to you a good commander might be important on long voyage! Grabbing some paper from the recycling bin and the pencil behind your ear, you start scribbling a list of qualities you'd want in a leader.

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(Explorer Question: page 1 of 1)

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Updated 07-25-00