Friday Miscellany

Car Show!

We will be second-homeward bound later today. It is the highly anticipated weekend we go to the car show with Greg and Dave. I love the car show. I wish I had enough money to shut the thing down for 2 hours so I could just go through it alone with my friends, but that ain't gonna happen. It becomes hard to look at the cars critically when people are traipsing here and there and everywhere, but it is worth it nonetheless.

It isn't really so much the people in general as it is the children. I don't mean teens, I mean the young ones. It seems as if there is some tacit understanding among them that they must touch everything. I believe it is a well-organized conspiracy to take out the weakest among us by foisting child-borne disease upon them. It's almost like a contest. Who can leave more finger prints?

I like to touch things, too, to gain a further appreciation of the quality of the surface. Say a paint job, or the materials used for the interior. But I doubt these kids are touchy-feely for purposes of making a rational decision based on perceived quality. They just want to touch.

And sit and play car. In every car. This never gets tiring. To them. I am tired of it already and I won't be there for another 24 hours yet. I understand I have to wait in line to sit in a particular model. Maybe there is heavy buzz, it's a new introduction or there is a change from the previous year or something. I am critically evaluating these machines based on a specific list of wants and needs and the hope that someday, I can drop this Fisher Price company I work for and get a big boy job with a big boy paycheck. And no, I do not want to work at Big Boy.

I think there should be a rule that you have to have a credit rating over 700 to touch or sit in the cars. After all, most of us finance our cars so shouldn't we be required to show ability (if not intent) to purchase? I reckon that would knock out a bunch of people. Especially the kids. Let's face it, most of the adults, too.

Siriusly

As predicted, I am spending most of my time between Channel 30, 'The Coffeehouse', and channel 33, vaguely named 'The Bridge' with some 'Deep Trax' and 'Classic Vinyl' thrown in when I get tired of weepy singer songwriter types and their feelings. I admit, I love mush music, but sometimes it does get a little maudlin, like the later episodes of M*A*S*H when they stopped trying to be funny and started trying to prove a point. But I can change the channel and there is always something on and it is never someone trying to sell me a car. So far? Thumbs up.

Ferry Fairy

Among my many talents is driving and being in the right place this weekend to ferry a van across the state for my company. This is not the first time. Because of my unique situation (that of having and impossibly large area of responsibility through which, to which, and from which I am always driving) I fairly often get pressed into service as livery delivery, and courier. I quipped once to my boss that I am either the most over-paid courier or the most underpaid manager in America. He said I was both and sent me on my way. This means Em will drive back in Large Marge the Barge and I will follow (or attempt to) in some van of unknown origin and condition.

You'll recall we have lost many company vehicles over the last few months to deer and other maladies like the back ends of other cars and some guard rails. So we do the only thing that makes any sense, which is to buy more vehicles to crash. Yeee Haw, we're goin' for a record!

My assessment of some of the issues with our vehicles is that partially the reason for them getting into accidents is because they are improperly maintained. I drove one on a dark winter night and had to go so slow on the highway, not due to lack of power or ability to speed off, but because the headlights were so poor. I could have set the cruise control (oh, wait no I couldn't because that is an option, and options are not an option), so I could have put a cinder block on the pedal, gotten out and run beside the van with two stick candles and been able to see farther than by using the headlights alone. This fails to mention the dreadfully inadequate windshield wipers that barely touched the terribly pocked and scarred windshield. It was no surprise, by the way, that this very van would become the latest casualty of deer strike, (of course I haven't checked my e-mail or read my reports this morning so I suppose I may have spoken too soon), because if you can't see it, it may as well not be there. Anyway, problem solved. The hard way, perhaps, but that's the way we do things.

So, will it be a newer van that is still proud and has life left? Or will it be a sagging, rusty hulk with sunken springs that results in a sort of skyward look as if it were prostrate, begging God himself to smite it and put it out of its misery? I have my guesses. If I were a betting man, it will be a very loud, slow, giggly ride home wrestling a bouncy steering wheel, and squishy brakes that are only vaguely aware of their purpose. I doubt it will even have a radio. If it does, I won't be able to hear it over the din.

Then there's the picture of me driving a van with no windows merrily down the way. The kids call it a 'sketch van', as in 'sketchy'. We used to call it a kidnap van, or a Mister Rogers, (ok, I called it that... he creeped my out!). I hope to God there isn't an Amber Alert because I'll get pulled over and searched at the boarder of every municipality. I have one of those faces as it is... I just look even more guilty and lascivious behind the wheel of a windowless van. It the heater is bad, I'll have to put up the hood of my sweatshirt, which means they will assume I am on my way to blow up... something.

Pray for me, brothers, sisters, well-wishers and friends. It's gonna be a long ride home.