Couple-ers.
She’s younger than me… by some amount of years, I must say.
Hers was the era of big hair rock….
OZZY! And hard rock band names like TOOL… and SHED…. And RAKE… and
BLOODYGUTSRIPPEDOUT. Here too, I have a
certain kinship.. after all, what self-respecting rock musician hasn’t played
Ratt’s Round and Round? Or Crazy Train?
Still, it’s all about the friggin’ car. Of course, I get to
hear (over and over again) about the stories where her and her ex-hubby
purchased their Mustangs together… ah, sweet love in youth. Well, he had to sell
his for one reason or another… and yet, the black ‘Tang rules this roost.
She has a regular, daily driver, so this makes her an
admiral with two automobiles within her fleet. I, on the other hand just own
one vehicle. We have one parking spot in front of our apartment, and one spot
in the Garage. She also has a storage shed where she keeps the Mustang in
hibernation over the winter months. That means in early April the beast comes
out and stays parked in the Garage.
She parks her truck in the parking stall, car in the garage…
leaving me and my little mini to fend for ourselves in the wild. We did strike
up a deal where my car at least gets some egress in front of the apartment. Yet,
the beast now rules the Garage area from now until late October.
The car itself is in some dire QT, as the doors don’t
entirely latch, the left front headlight is out. Normally, an easy FORD fix..
but, these are not your stock headlights, no. These are special HID or “xenon”
lights, installed by a “best friend of an
Uncle of a brother’s friend who knew how to do these things…” AH, I see.
So, no headlight on the passenger side.
“Yeah, I gotta get that fixed someday…” Well, again I have a
more-than-nodding-acquaintance with that expression. I understand.
The beast rumbles like a tiger, which is exciting of course.
As long as you don’t have to ride too far or too fast in it. And of course, the
appreciative looks from people walking or riding by gives one that Rock Star
feeling…. “OOOH, Nice car!” they
exclaim. She gets a look on her face, like that of many of the smug lead
singers (no, not like me) get when they are loved by the crowd. “Thank you,”
she says. What she means is “F--- yah!” and then she squeals around the corner.
Of course, there are the oil/gas/water leaks that happen
invariably. This does not sit well with the landlady.. always on the lookout for
potential “spills” – which they will charge you for any found. (Or, so they
say). It’s all because life and acreage
is taken up by THE CAR.
There are the roads in which she will not drive (TOO
BUMPY!), which means that to get from A to B requires a maze-like roundabout
way to get to any destination. All the while, she is complaining about everyone’s
driving.
All in all, it’s another one of those “extras” one gets to
have in a relationship – The Girlfriend (s) from the past in which she must
tell every.single.thing. (“Oh? Then he just rolls over? Really?”) and the
family (mega-family with mult-branches) and the little patio baubles that light
up (of course). The Mustang will forever haunt my nightmares, much like the Christine
before her (UGH, I could hear her say… THAT’S a MOPAR product!)… but, I get it.
She would say, “AND HOW MANY GUITARS DO YOU HAVE?” and I would have to agree that my little “hobby”
(It’s not a friggin’ HOBBY!) is at least as expensive as hers. I remind myself
it’s a better thing than hanging out in bars, or gambling. And it is nice to
have folks notice when we drive by (the old Rock Star in me)… but just once,
just once I wish she would let me drive the thing.
