Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Tuesday, December 07, 2004

Okay, so I have a sickness.

Driving home last night I had to swing by the library and pick up some books, and as I drove back down Main Street, in the streetlit darkness, in the rain, trying not to get hit by a truck, my Senseless Toy radar started blipping. In betwixt all the distractions of the drive, I spotted something across the road, parked in the lot at the plant nursery.

Pale yellow, wires, thin bumpers, for sale. Best I could tell, going 40 mph and dodging rain and maniacs and all, it looked to be an early-'70s MGB. Despite having no need nor cash for such a thing, the tiny broken metal bits that constitute my brain started working and saying stupid things.

"You know, you wouldn't look NEAR as dorky in that as you would a Miata!"

True--I like Miatas a lot, and have sat in a couple and was amazed at the amount of room, and they are quite happy little cars; but, still, they're just a little too girly. Mainly because they are dead reliable. You could go forever without having to worry about a leak in your lap (either through the convertible top or a suddenly broken heater hose), and you can actually drive them on rainy dark nights without worrying about a) the entire electrical system shorting out, leaving you hurtling along without lights, or b) actually being able to start it when it's wet outside. They probably don't rust, either. Which is why you might look like a silly poof in an old Brit sports car, but you'll still be a manly poof because you actually have to be able to work on the stupid thing constantly to make it drive.

"It sure would be fun!"

Well, sure. So would several other things that I can't write about on a family blog. Most of which would be several orders of magnitude less costly than having a tinworm-infested hunk of iron in the driveway that looks just so right with wire wheels. Wire wheels that have to be trued every time you hit an expansion joint in the road.

"Oh, come on--you could use it in the Christmas parade to ferry long-legged beauty queens!"

Hmm. D'you think s0--STOP! Stop it RIGHT now!

"Somebody else has already spent all the money needed to get it sorted out just so!"

No. Somebody has probably spent all the money they HAVE, trying to get it sorted out. Finally, it probably got to the point where it was too expensive to set fire to, and not worth enough to justify a fourth mortgage.

"Awww, but just LOOK at it! It's lonely!"

Yeah, it does look so smooth and round and cheeky and--STOP! Stop DOING that!

"Oh, okay. But maybe you can drive back by in the morning when you take the kids to school."

Well, yeah, I don't suppose that would hurt. So I did. Since I was on that side of the street, I got to see it a bit better. Even in the driving monsoon we had going on this morning. That just gave me an excuse to slow down a little. Newish-looking black top, no obvious dents, no flat tires, no broken glass, all the trim in place, the color of warm butter.

Tie me to the mast.

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