salesman has his motorized roller skates refueled. Connecticut, 1961.

In 1961, the streets of Connecticut were quieter, with a steady hum of postwar optimism filling the air. But for Bill Walker, a salesman in his early 30s, his life was anything but ordinary. He had, quite unusually, traded in his car for a set of motorized roller skates, and his routine was a mixture of the mundane and the surreal. It was a chilly morning in March, and the air smelled faintly of diesel and fresh-cut grass. As the sun began its slow climb over the horizon, Bill was already navigating the winding roads of Hartford with practiced ease on his motorized roller skates.

Bill wasn't the typical type of salesman who'd hop into a sedan and drive off to meet clients in the suburbs. No, he had a flair for the extraordinary and an intense love of speed. He had come up with the idea of motorized roller skates two years earlier when he’d realized how much time was lost in traffic. Bill had always been a restless spirit, someone who loved to move, to zoom, to feel the rush of wind on his face. And in the postwar world of innovation, where the skies seemed to promise more and more, motorized roller skates were the next logical step.

The motorized skates were a marvel, too. Small enough to fit in the trunk of a car, but with enough power to make the world feel like a blur, they had tiny gasoline engines tucked into the heels. They weren’t sleek and futuristic like the space-age cars of the day. No, these skates looked like something from a dream—a little bulky but undeniably fast, with whirring engines that would send him zipping down sidewalks and through alleyways like a man on a mission.

In the early morning light, Bill was in his element. As he coasted down the streets of Hartford, the roller skates’ tiny engine buzzing in his ears, he relished the feeling of freedom that they provided. There were no red lights to stop him, no traffic jams to stall his momentum. His morning routine had become a delicate choreography, a dance of negotiation between precision and thrill. He’d glide up to a client's office, his skates skimming the pavement as easily as a car would glide over the road.

But there were moments when the novelty of it all would wear off. Bill had started to wonder if anyone would take him seriously—was he just the eccentric guy with the weird skates, or did his work actually matter? People would stare at him as he passed by, some with admiration, others with a hint of skepticism. "What kind of salesman rides those things?" they would murmur under their breath.

It didn’t help that, for some, the sight of motorized roller skates evoked images of circus performers or children’s toys. But Bill was a man on a mission. He knew he wasn’t just selling a product; he was selling a way of life. He had visions of a future where transportation wasn’t restricted to clunky cars or inconvenient public buses. He imagined a world where people could zoom to work, to dinner, to the grocery store with the ease of gliding through the air. He wanted to make that a reality, one pair of roller skates at a time.

This particular morning, Bill’s journey would take him to a modest warehouse just outside downtown Hartford, where he was scheduled to meet with a potential supplier. He had to meet this man, Mr. Collins, who ran a small business that dealt in all sorts of parts—electrical components, motors, and materials. Bill had heard that Collins was considering adding a new line of products for urban transportation. This was his opportunity to secure a deal that could provide a steady supply of parts for his skates.

As Bill approached the warehouse, he could already see the old man standing outside, his coat flapping in the breeze. The sun had risen higher, casting a soft golden hue over the scene. He stopped his skates just outside the building, kicking up a small cloud of dust as he braked to a smooth stop. The motor whined down to a low hum, and Bill removed his helmet, his dark hair ruffled from the wind.

Mr. Collins eyed him curiously, but Bill could see the flicker of interest in the older man’s eyes.

“Well, well,” Mr. Collins grunted, adjusting his glasses as he surveyed the skates. “A pair of skates, huh?”

“Motorized,” Bill corrected, grinning widely. “You’ve never seen anything like them, I can assure you. They’re the future.”

Bill reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a handful of glossy brochures. They featured sleek images of happy customers zooming through city streets on their skates. “This is a revolution waiting to happen,” he said with a touch of pride. “We’ve got the power, the speed, and the mobility.”

Collins crossed his arms, clearly skeptical but intrigued. “And you’re here to sell me on it?”

“That’s right,” Bill said, stepping off the skates and walking up to Collins. “I need parts, and I need them to be reliable. These skates are fast, but if we want to mass-produce them, we need durable materials and high-quality motors. I’m talking about a partnership that can put these skates on every sidewalk in the country.”

Mr. Collins rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’ve been hearing a lot of talk about ‘the future’ lately,” he muttered. “Cars, rockets, computers… and now skates.”

Bill’s smile grew wider, knowing that the older man was just warming up. He could hear the wheels turning in Collins' head.

"Let me show you what they can do," Bill said, offering a gesture toward the open road. With a quick flick of his wrist, he started up the skates again, sending a quick burst of acceleration into the air. “Keep your eye on the future,” he shouted as he sped off.

Collins watched, wide-eyed, as Bill zipped down the street. The motorized roller skates hummed with life as Bill effortlessly navigated the pavement. The older man’s jaw dropped in disbelief as Bill made a quick turn and skidded to a smooth stop a few hundred yards down.

Bill stood still, panting slightly but grinning ear to ear. He could see the look of admiration in Collins' eyes now, and he knew that the sale was all but secured. But there was still the matter of the details.

By the time they were done negotiating, Bill had managed to secure the deal—one that would provide him with a steady supply of parts and motors for the next year. In return, Collins would get the chance to be a part of the emerging transportation revolution. It wasn’t just business. It was a declaration that the future had arrived.

As Bill left the warehouse that morning, skates buzzing beneath him, he couldn't help but feel a rush of exhilaration. It wasn’t just about the sale—it was about something bigger. The idea of a world where people could move freely, effortlessly. Where the limits of the past were discarded like outdated machines, and the future could be lived right now.

As he cruised down the street, he thought to himself, maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something huge. The road ahead was long, but for Bill Walker, it was always moving forward.