This one actually happened earlier this Summer, so sitting around bored this morning, I thought I would relate it.
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"Honey, can you run me down to the store? The dealership is picking up my car this morning and I need to get some things." My wife Debra asked me one Saturday Morning.
Now I hate to shop, hate to go to stores. I will do anything and everything, from pretending to be asleep to having a sore foot, try whining, make up excuses, bad back, pick one, I will try it.
Usually doesn't work, of course, Debs is onto me.
But she also understands, and realizes that my having to watch her check every single item in the store, comparing cost per ounce drives me even more batty than I already am.
It's three hours for her to run down and get a gallon of milk and a dozen eggs.
Still, her damn Camaro, (yeah, a 60 year old female Doctor that drives a hot rod Camaro) for some reason started and ran but put it in gear, it just would not go. Even foot to the floor, all it would do was idle.
Some crazy thing like a glitch in the rev limiter is what they suggested, or some sensor, so they were sending a flat bed truck to haul it in and fix it.
Which of course, meant I was stuck. Calling a taxi popped right into my old head but that would start a fight so I kept my mouth shut.
So I moaned but out we went, climbed into my big white Dodge truck. OK, maybe I am not much better than Debs there, my pickup is a 3/4 ton, it has a big diesel engine, turbocharged, of course.
An old man like me needs a rig like that about as much as he needs a hole in the head, but I like the thing so there.
Plus I put some of those great big wheels, you know the kind I mean, fancy and manly looking with the fake bead bolts on them, plus huge oversize tires, added a 4 inch exhaust system.
A couple of tweaks and the turbo boost was 10 pounds instead of 6, that added one hell of a lot of power. She will squeal all four tires for a second or two if I jump on the throttle, six cylinder be damned.
Yep, the cab is way up there, I like the rig even if it does suck down the fuel. I like being able to step on the throttle and run down about anything on the face of the Earth. My truck is pretty close to as fast as Debra's little tinker toy Camaro, well, maybe not quite but close.
I did install steps that pull out, so if we needed to, Debs could get into it. I also put them on my side too, not that I needed them or anything but it does help. Plus hand holds to help pull me up, after all, I ain't no Spring Chicken here any more.
Anyway, off we went with a roar. The road down to the highway is a bit rough and my truck is not exactly soft riding, so I got to watch Debra's titties bounce up and down as we drove.
That got me to giggling, which got her to giggling, what the hell. Taking her shopping isn't all that bad, IF I can get out of having to go inside.
I found a spot to park way off to the outside of the lot, so some jerk couldn't pull in beside me and jam the top of their door into the bottom on my door, they seem to do that regular as clockwork.
The damn spots they have down there at Safeway are about big enough for a Honda, not really big enough for any real vehicle. Plus my truck is a long box and a crew cab so it sort of sticks out into the adjacent lane.
"I will just sit here and wait, OK?" I told Debs.
She rolled her eyes but didn't argue. I reached down and turned on the radio, I subscribe to that over the air stuff, I especially like the comedy club station.
As I was sitting there listening to that fat comic talk about his Aunt and her walking farts, in pulls a tiny little blue car, a convertible.
There was a whole damned parking lot, for God's sakes, and they had to park right next to me, way over on the outside of the lot?