Awww.

Last night I was supposed to take Middle Girl to a soccer clinic (coached by yet another expat Brit--where they keep getting these guys, I'll never know) but due to God's artillery drills going on, the clinic was cancelled and we headed back to the house. I had decided to take Franklin (the Ford F-100 spoken lovingly of in past posts) but he was nearly out of gas (unlike his owner) so I pulled into the Exxon there on Main Street.

A few moments later, a dung-colored four door Chevette blatted in behind me carrying a full load of two very large persons of the sort who might think driving an ancient Chevette was fun. The man got out to fill up the tank (producing a sizable shift in the center of gravity and a loud squeak from the suspension) when all of a sudden, in clatters a dark blue four door Chevette and hesitates briefly beside the first fellow. The driver's window is vigorously, yet slowly, rolled down and out pops a blue ball cap on top of a grizzled head--"Zthata sevndy-seven?" "Naw, it's a sevndy-ate!" Ball Cap looks it over carefully, admiring its velvety-textured paint and charming "brite" wheel trim. "Yep, these is really good cars--they gettin' to be collector's items." "Yeah, I know!"

AND THUS WAS BORN THE TRUSSVILLE CHAPTER OF THE CHEVETTE OWNER'S CLUB.
posted by Terry at 11:48:00 AM