Here's One For My Grandma...
Maybe I'm too sentimental, but I got just a little bit concerned when I found out "The Massage Therapist" was gettin' Grandma's Contour.
No, no, no, I don't have some crazy thing about Massage Therapists -- that was just the easiest thing to call her without givin' her a name on here.
I'll be the first to admit, I'm "Car Sentimental." I Love that Bandit TA, I want that Pantera back, It's tearin' me up to see the Triumph with a For Sale Sign on it. Black Ranger Pickups and Red Suzuki Samurai's make me smile with memories. Red half-ton Fords and White Geo Metro's make me check to see if I've still got my seatbelt on. There are parts in my Orange Twenty that came out of my First Outlaw Stock; and it's on my mind at least a little bit every time I climb in. Sentimental and race cars? You bet -- This Orange car is the last one we've got around here that Dave actually had his hands on; I remember him diggin' through it while I was strippin' out the Blue Cutlass Supreme, and I still have the "Men In Black" toy "Memory Blinky Thingy" that he found in the glovebox & I later found when I cleaned out his ol' Van... I am full-on Car Sentimental, without a doubt; "Vincent Black Lightning, 1952" made me cry and I saw "Maximum Overdrive" a little more eye-to-eye than most people did.
Deep down in my lifetime-in-the-car-biz-heart, I know that a '96 Ford Contour four-cylinder really isn't anything special, even if it did come in one of the better colors of that year. It wasn't any kind of hotrod, not particularly fun to drive, but it was a decent car; just a regular little ol' Grandma's car, creature comforts but not a house-of-power. We bought it fender-bendered -- I remember pickin' it up to take it to the glass shop and hoping the sprinkles wouldn't turn to rain before I could get there with no wipers and no smooth glass for 'em to wipe off anyway. I remember driving it up here from Sand Springs when we moved Grandma in with Dad; and I remember runnin' around with my Grandma, and even if it was a Dr. Appointment or a trip to the Pharmacy, my Grandma always managed to get in a little shopping and a nice little lunch afterward. I remember driving out on 412 and chatting with My Grandma about the wedding; and I especially remember that because she was the only member of my family who was excited about the idea -- but that's a whole 'nuther fit to pitch...
So... Over the last few years, we've watched TMT trash, thrash, crash, abuse and use up a lot of cars. It's like she's never managed to outgrow the new-driver-highschool-kid-stupidity -- I know it takes some people longer than others, but come on, once you're past thirty you should either learn to drive or give it up and learn to use the public transit system. I cringed when I heard about TIB blowin' the head gasket; I cringed a little more when I found out TMT had killed another car and just "had to have something," so they set her up with Grandma's car and a payment plan.
She ran the PikePass lane first thing, like before she'd even had it a whole week we got the letter with the lovely photo and the PikePass Fine. She had a claim filed against her for knocking mirrors with somebody downtown. And now she's had a fairly serious crash that sent two people to the hospital. I know what some folks would be thinking right now -- I had a very serious crash that sent somebody to the funeral home -- but that was ten years ago, and that was the only wreck I ever caused, I had insurance to cover it and a savings account to cover the rest. We've watched this girl crash cars, burn up motors and transmissions and countless stacks of parts; we've watched her drive 'em into the ground 'til they won't go any more and then have to keep 'em sittin' around 'cause she wasn't finished with the payments yet. And now we're dealin' with her crashing this car while it's still got our insurance on it -- I know, "not a good idea," but it was a "helping a friend out" kinda deal.
Stress can kill people; just ask the Mounds School Board what happened at their meeting last night. I'd really think that someone who is a "Massage Therapist" would know about that; but maybe she doesn't. I'm having a hard time watching My Dad deal with the stress of all these phone calls from Insurance Agents and Lawyers and God-knows-who-else. Yeah, I know, he's My Dad, I've stressed him out like that myself too; but it was one wreck ten years ago and his kid has had time to outgrow the stupid-driver phase and not do it again. Now there's somebody else's kid layin' the stress on, and it's not doin' any of us any good.
I'd love to meet this chick... I'd totally give her a piece of my mind, and if she got mouthy with me about it, I'd rip a piece out of her azs to take home to my folks.
End Of Rant...
More Later. _\,,/
No, no, no, I don't have some crazy thing about Massage Therapists -- that was just the easiest thing to call her without givin' her a name on here.
I'll be the first to admit, I'm "Car Sentimental." I Love that Bandit TA, I want that Pantera back, It's tearin' me up to see the Triumph with a For Sale Sign on it. Black Ranger Pickups and Red Suzuki Samurai's make me smile with memories. Red half-ton Fords and White Geo Metro's make me check to see if I've still got my seatbelt on. There are parts in my Orange Twenty that came out of my First Outlaw Stock; and it's on my mind at least a little bit every time I climb in. Sentimental and race cars? You bet -- This Orange car is the last one we've got around here that Dave actually had his hands on; I remember him diggin' through it while I was strippin' out the Blue Cutlass Supreme, and I still have the "Men In Black" toy "Memory Blinky Thingy" that he found in the glovebox & I later found when I cleaned out his ol' Van... I am full-on Car Sentimental, without a doubt; "Vincent Black Lightning, 1952" made me cry and I saw "Maximum Overdrive" a little more eye-to-eye than most people did.
Deep down in my lifetime-in-the-car-biz-heart, I know that a '96 Ford Contour four-cylinder really isn't anything special, even if it did come in one of the better colors of that year. It wasn't any kind of hotrod, not particularly fun to drive, but it was a decent car; just a regular little ol' Grandma's car, creature comforts but not a house-of-power. We bought it fender-bendered -- I remember pickin' it up to take it to the glass shop and hoping the sprinkles wouldn't turn to rain before I could get there with no wipers and no smooth glass for 'em to wipe off anyway. I remember driving it up here from Sand Springs when we moved Grandma in with Dad; and I remember runnin' around with my Grandma, and even if it was a Dr. Appointment or a trip to the Pharmacy, my Grandma always managed to get in a little shopping and a nice little lunch afterward. I remember driving out on 412 and chatting with My Grandma about the wedding; and I especially remember that because she was the only member of my family who was excited about the idea -- but that's a whole 'nuther fit to pitch...
So... Over the last few years, we've watched TMT trash, thrash, crash, abuse and use up a lot of cars. It's like she's never managed to outgrow the new-driver-highschool-kid-stupidity -- I know it takes some people longer than others, but come on, once you're past thirty you should either learn to drive or give it up and learn to use the public transit system. I cringed when I heard about TIB blowin' the head gasket; I cringed a little more when I found out TMT had killed another car and just "had to have something," so they set her up with Grandma's car and a payment plan.
She ran the PikePass lane first thing, like before she'd even had it a whole week we got the letter with the lovely photo and the PikePass Fine. She had a claim filed against her for knocking mirrors with somebody downtown. And now she's had a fairly serious crash that sent two people to the hospital. I know what some folks would be thinking right now -- I had a very serious crash that sent somebody to the funeral home -- but that was ten years ago, and that was the only wreck I ever caused, I had insurance to cover it and a savings account to cover the rest. We've watched this girl crash cars, burn up motors and transmissions and countless stacks of parts; we've watched her drive 'em into the ground 'til they won't go any more and then have to keep 'em sittin' around 'cause she wasn't finished with the payments yet. And now we're dealin' with her crashing this car while it's still got our insurance on it -- I know, "not a good idea," but it was a "helping a friend out" kinda deal.
Stress can kill people; just ask the Mounds School Board what happened at their meeting last night. I'd really think that someone who is a "Massage Therapist" would know about that; but maybe she doesn't. I'm having a hard time watching My Dad deal with the stress of all these phone calls from Insurance Agents and Lawyers and God-knows-who-else. Yeah, I know, he's My Dad, I've stressed him out like that myself too; but it was one wreck ten years ago and his kid has had time to outgrow the stupid-driver phase and not do it again. Now there's somebody else's kid layin' the stress on, and it's not doin' any of us any good.
I'd love to meet this chick... I'd totally give her a piece of my mind, and if she got mouthy with me about it, I'd rip a piece out of her azs to take home to my folks.
End Of Rant...
More Later. _\,,/
posted by Debbie at 12:13 PM
<< Home