Boy, I've been busy this week! Busy destroying cars that is. Cheryl and I were out driving last week when about 2 miles from the nearest exit, she started acting like a fool. I kept asking her why she was shaking so bad. Was she cold or something? It was 65 degrees outside. Anyway, she wasn't talking. Then, as I pulled off the interstate, she started smoking. I yelled at her, "Cheryl, when did you start this filthy habit?"
"Fifth grade. Whatsittoya?"
Then I knew she was serious. So I pulled into a parking area just off the beaten path and listened to her sizzle, hiss and moan for about 30 minutes before they came to take her away. She has been laid up in the repair shop now for 5 days. They said she needed a new belt. "Sure" I thought, "And scarf, and spring jacket, and new sandals." Prima Donna.
Just three days later I was driving "Creed" (our Rodeo) and again about 2 miles from my exit, he begins to wobble back and forth violently on the road, literally tossing me side to side in my seat and totally embarrassing me in front of the other vehicles. "What are you doing, Creed?!" I hissed. But Creed was too busy allowing rust to completely envelope his nether regions to respond. We think his issues might be terminal.
So, what's the lesson to be learned here? It is, you bang up enough cars in a week, your dad will give you his prized 1990 Chevy Corvette to zip around town in. Gosh, don't I feel like a big loser here.