"Before she gets to saying goodbye,
She ought to think twice,
She ought to do right by me." - The Beatles
The Mombus, currently held together with duct tape and melted crayons, is having a tough time. Even with 210,000 miles, blown speakers from teen thumpers, intermittent a/c and carpeting in some shade of spilled soda, I still love to drive her - there's something about the way that ”paid for" handles that I just can't describe. I have resolved that she WILL last until the youngest teen passes the "learning to drive" phase. Then, I'm totally getting a two-seater.
The issue du jour is battery-related (last week it was the brakes), so while the man of the house tackles the problem, I am using the Edge's vehicle for quick grocery runs. I've noticed a different driving experience when I am at the wheel of the zippy little vehicle.
For one thing, people follow me a lot more closely. That may be due, in part, to their trying to read the shoe polish notes on the back window.
At the bank, the teller looks down on me, and addresses me by my first name. When I am perched proudly at the regal wheel of my Mombus, I am Mrs. McKnight.
Men check me out in the little zippy car. Until they get close enough to see the gray hair and wrinkles. Sorry, dude, but you shouldn't be looking at little girls in cars anyway!
There are lots of shiny trinkets and colorful geegaws hanging from the rearview mirror. They dance to the music and fly dangerously close to my eyes when I turn. I'd remove them, but the BFF chain is twisted into the rainbow lei, her nametag from work and the air freshener and I don't have time to unravel the mess.
So, if you see what appears at first glance to be a teenager's vehicle tooling around town at the posted speed limit while blaring 80's tunes, just give me a little room. I'm simply looking for the brake pedal amid the soda bottles and beach towels.
Divorce in Progress
5 weeks ago