My old Dynasty has developed some new kind of problem. Last weekend, when we checked out the campground at Pretty Bay, an ominous noise began in the front end of the car. Either we have gotten used to it, or it isn't quite as bad as when we first heard it. Whatever the answer, DB gave me the truck to drive all week.
I have written before, probably more than once, how I love to drive that truck. This week I found out one of the big drawbacks, as I put over $25 into the gas tank! I had to go to Northern City twice, and that hit my pocketbook hard. But, tootling along, high above the rest of the traffic, I really didn't care. I zipped over that pot-holed back road like it was a smooth four-lane. I sat in line at the red light in Northern City, looking down on the poor peons who were driving their Hondas, Toyotas, and Chryslers, and grinning my truck-driving grin. Life is good.
And I better enjoy it, because ole Dynasty goes into the hospital on Tuesday, and I'm afraid the bill will be more than a down-payment on a new car. Oh well...
The last vehicle I enjoyed as much as this truck was my little, second-hand VW Bug. Now THERE was a car! She had been rolled over before I acquired her, so looked slightly like she had acne scars, but I loved her. I could go ANYWHERE in that car. Her name was Rosie. One of my favorite memories of that automobile was the day I had to take my professor-boss to a big city near the college. It was only a 16-mile drive, but I'm sure it felt like 60 miles to him. You see, he was dressed in his beige three-piece suit and his slick-shined cowboy boots, feeling pretty good about himself. And Rosie was typical of VW bugs; she only had heat on hot summer days. In fact, the floorboards, what was left of them from the rusting, would get hot enough to burn the bottoms of your feet. Of course, it didn't bother me, because I had pedals to rest my feet on.
But professor, in his elegant clothes, looking a little out of place anyway in my teenaged car, had nowhere to put his feet except on the floor. And it got hot. And his feet, even in those dandy boots, got VERY hot. He was talking to me (lecturing?) all the way to the city, but I could see him shifting his feet around as we drove. He didn't refer to this discomfort, however, until the ride home. He had run out of things to say (!), and suddenly the fact that his feet felt like they were on burning coals got through to him. @@##%#@#$, he said, "Turn off the d-mn heat!" Sorry I said, grinning, "It only goes off in the winter." He spent the rest of the drive with his feet ignominiously propped up on the seat, holding on frantically to his legs in order to keep his feet there.
When Rosie was "killed" in a rear-end collision, I wanted to bury her in the yard and plant flowers in her, but DB protested. She was hauled away to a junk yard. She had given me many happy hours in the time she was my vehicle. May she rest in peace.
7:22 PM
Daylight Savings Time already. I wasn't prepared. I NEEDED that hour this morning! I woke up to rain; not a happy way to begin a new day. We need the rain, however, so I tried to be grateful about it.
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