Viva Velvetteen Rabbit Theory!!
Apparently, it works.
Remember that sweet little story "The Velvetteen Rabbit?" The details have escaped me over the years, but the general gist of it all has certainly stuck. "A child's love will make you real!" It's about believing; that's where "The Velvetteen Rabbit Theory" comes from. I've come to the conclusion that believing is important; like believing that the ol' three-colored Windstar with the iffy transmission would make the trip to Springfield and back even though it chattered pretty hard when I pulled out of the QuickTrip in Claremore. I'm guessing that some people, okay, most people, would've turned around and headed back home at that point; but I figured that if it had enough left to go as long as it had, it surely had enough left to go a little further.
Don't get me wrong, I have no real idea how to quantify Transmission Failure by feel other than when it's gone, it's gone; it's just that I figure that if it's slipping a little bit now, it'll surely slip a little bit for a while and then most likely get a little worse before it's completely gone like some of the goners we've had turn up around here. Since the slipping usually occurs at low speeds and usually in first or second gear; I also figure that a 600-mile highway trip shouldn't be quite so taxing as 600 miles around town since highway driving involves mostly fourth or occasionally third gear.
I ain't gonna lie to ya, I knew it was a little risky, but ya know, my head's like a rock -- I wanted to go, I wanted to drive somethin' big enough to haul back some stuff if I decided to, so I went. I figured if the transmission gave up, I'd still have cold A/C, and I'd have lots of room to stretch out and get comfy, put on a movie, and knit a bit while I waited. I figured that if it gave out in Springfield, I could rent a tow-dolly and we'd just haul it back home; and I even found one for sale, I could've bought one if I'd decided to. If it gave out in Oklahoma, Clay's AAA Card would get it home. Maybe having a "backup plan" or two helped as well, but I really didn't think I'd need either back-up plan, and it turned out I didn't.
I left outta here thinkin' I was going to get comfy in my seat, eat a candy bar, drink a 'dew, and listen to some short stories all while getting to Springfield and back without having any problems I couldn't handle, so I did, and it worked. I can't help but compare the situation with someone leaving here to head to midtown Tulsa, grumbling and bitching, and then ending up grumbling and bitching beside the highway with a broken truck ten minutes into what would've been a twenty minute drive; but I'm not gettin' into a rant about that damn drunk, not today...
I had a nice time in MO, it was a nice short little trip for the most part. I enjoyed the drive, and the iPod -- I know I've said this before, but if you've ever thought about gettin' one, get one, you'll love it; I still wish I hadn't waited so long to buy mine. Other than gettin' siiiiiiiiick Saturday night, I had a great time -- I'm not goin' back to that restaurant next time, but I really would like to go back to the Dirt Track in Springfield; it was a nice show and I was impressed. They said a little prayer before the national anthem and I thought it was real nice to hear 'em ask for a "clean, safe night of racing and a safe trip home for all of us."
A Clean, Safe Night Of Racing. God bless 'em, each and every one. I know, deep down, that seeing it from a seat in the stands really doesn't compare to seeing it from a seat with a wheel in my hands, but I really think there was a difference in the driving there. There wasn't a lot of obvious beatin'-bangin'-leanin'-bankin'-rammin' like I've seen way too much of over the years. Lots of the cars were still straight and shiny even this far into the season, and I was stunned to see 'em side-by-side and sometimes three or four wide without touchin' even in hotlaps; and I saw several occasions where they were actually using the brakes to keep from hitting each other. Yes, seriously, when ya let out to set it in and turn, the car behind you lets out too instead of just bashing into you, and after gettin' rammed a couple times at a couple different tracks, I started to wonder if the guy behind me had trouble figuring out there happened to be a car there. I'm also really diggin' that black & orange Ford that was just off and gone for the heat race and then won the feature too...
The swap-meet was huge, but my T-Tops-from-the-Ex didn't sell; I'm thinkin' about puttin' 'em on Cr@igsL!st. Maybe I'll offer to trade 'em for a Dremel Set, an ArtCarved ring, and a 2002 Ch!li Bowl T-shirt, since that's what I couldn't ever get back from the ex who can't seem to be enough of a grown-up to act respectable on the phone, let alone give my stuff back or get his stuff back.
I guess since I'm "being the grown-up" in that situation, getting a little cash for 'em on Cr@igsL!st is a better, more mature option than smashing them into a Wal-Mart bag and leaving it in his front yard... Since he claimed he "had multiple personalities"* and was also seen cuttin' up somethin' white and powdery on the kitchen table, who knows, maybe he doesn't even remember the Camaro or the T-Tops; it might even be a mystery as to where the ring and the T-shirt and the Dremel came from, and the humor of a million tiny pieces of mirrory glass in a plastic bag would be completely lost on him. Or at least on the other six of his seven "personalities." Heh.
* : I'm not passing judgement on people with mental-health issues; I'm just takin' a poke at that guy who walked out of a movie about a schizophrenic criminal and then turned to me and said, "Did I ever tell you I have multiple personalities?" Seriously... And if he's reading this, uhm, hey, I don't care about your nasty attitude, I don't care about the damn Dremel, but I would really like to have my ring and my clothes back. I really don't give a damn about keepin' these T-Tops either, so if you want 'em, get over here and get 'em out of my way, it won't bother me a bit just as long as you leave your childish personalitles at home, send the guy in his thirties, okay? I don't do well with kids.
More later... _\,,/
Remember that sweet little story "The Velvetteen Rabbit?" The details have escaped me over the years, but the general gist of it all has certainly stuck. "A child's love will make you real!" It's about believing; that's where "The Velvetteen Rabbit Theory" comes from. I've come to the conclusion that believing is important; like believing that the ol' three-colored Windstar with the iffy transmission would make the trip to Springfield and back even though it chattered pretty hard when I pulled out of the QuickTrip in Claremore. I'm guessing that some people, okay, most people, would've turned around and headed back home at that point; but I figured that if it had enough left to go as long as it had, it surely had enough left to go a little further.
Don't get me wrong, I have no real idea how to quantify Transmission Failure by feel other than when it's gone, it's gone; it's just that I figure that if it's slipping a little bit now, it'll surely slip a little bit for a while and then most likely get a little worse before it's completely gone like some of the goners we've had turn up around here. Since the slipping usually occurs at low speeds and usually in first or second gear; I also figure that a 600-mile highway trip shouldn't be quite so taxing as 600 miles around town since highway driving involves mostly fourth or occasionally third gear.
I ain't gonna lie to ya, I knew it was a little risky, but ya know, my head's like a rock -- I wanted to go, I wanted to drive somethin' big enough to haul back some stuff if I decided to, so I went. I figured if the transmission gave up, I'd still have cold A/C, and I'd have lots of room to stretch out and get comfy, put on a movie, and knit a bit while I waited. I figured that if it gave out in Springfield, I could rent a tow-dolly and we'd just haul it back home; and I even found one for sale, I could've bought one if I'd decided to. If it gave out in Oklahoma, Clay's AAA Card would get it home. Maybe having a "backup plan" or two helped as well, but I really didn't think I'd need either back-up plan, and it turned out I didn't.
I left outta here thinkin' I was going to get comfy in my seat, eat a candy bar, drink a 'dew, and listen to some short stories all while getting to Springfield and back without having any problems I couldn't handle, so I did, and it worked. I can't help but compare the situation with someone leaving here to head to midtown Tulsa, grumbling and bitching, and then ending up grumbling and bitching beside the highway with a broken truck ten minutes into what would've been a twenty minute drive; but I'm not gettin' into a rant about that damn drunk, not today...
I had a nice time in MO, it was a nice short little trip for the most part. I enjoyed the drive, and the iPod -- I know I've said this before, but if you've ever thought about gettin' one, get one, you'll love it; I still wish I hadn't waited so long to buy mine. Other than gettin' siiiiiiiiick Saturday night, I had a great time -- I'm not goin' back to that restaurant next time, but I really would like to go back to the Dirt Track in Springfield; it was a nice show and I was impressed. They said a little prayer before the national anthem and I thought it was real nice to hear 'em ask for a "clean, safe night of racing and a safe trip home for all of us."
A Clean, Safe Night Of Racing. God bless 'em, each and every one. I know, deep down, that seeing it from a seat in the stands really doesn't compare to seeing it from a seat with a wheel in my hands, but I really think there was a difference in the driving there. There wasn't a lot of obvious beatin'-bangin'-leanin'-bankin'-rammin' like I've seen way too much of over the years. Lots of the cars were still straight and shiny even this far into the season, and I was stunned to see 'em side-by-side and sometimes three or four wide without touchin' even in hotlaps; and I saw several occasions where they were actually using the brakes to keep from hitting each other. Yes, seriously, when ya let out to set it in and turn, the car behind you lets out too instead of just bashing into you, and after gettin' rammed a couple times at a couple different tracks, I started to wonder if the guy behind me had trouble figuring out there happened to be a car there. I'm also really diggin' that black & orange Ford that was just off and gone for the heat race and then won the feature too...
The swap-meet was huge, but my T-Tops-from-the-Ex didn't sell; I'm thinkin' about puttin' 'em on Cr@igsL!st. Maybe I'll offer to trade 'em for a Dremel Set, an ArtCarved ring, and a 2002 Ch!li Bowl T-shirt, since that's what I couldn't ever get back from the ex who can't seem to be enough of a grown-up to act respectable on the phone, let alone give my stuff back or get his stuff back.
I guess since I'm "being the grown-up" in that situation, getting a little cash for 'em on Cr@igsL!st is a better, more mature option than smashing them into a Wal-Mart bag and leaving it in his front yard... Since he claimed he "had multiple personalities"* and was also seen cuttin' up somethin' white and powdery on the kitchen table, who knows, maybe he doesn't even remember the Camaro or the T-Tops; it might even be a mystery as to where the ring and the T-shirt and the Dremel came from, and the humor of a million tiny pieces of mirrory glass in a plastic bag would be completely lost on him. Or at least on the other six of his seven "personalities." Heh.
* : I'm not passing judgement on people with mental-health issues; I'm just takin' a poke at that guy who walked out of a movie about a schizophrenic criminal and then turned to me and said, "Did I ever tell you I have multiple personalities?" Seriously... And if he's reading this, uhm, hey, I don't care about your nasty attitude, I don't care about the damn Dremel, but I would really like to have my ring and my clothes back. I really don't give a damn about keepin' these T-Tops either, so if you want 'em, get over here and get 'em out of my way, it won't bother me a bit just as long as you leave your childish personalitles at home, send the guy in his thirties, okay? I don't do well with kids.
More later... _\,,/
posted by Debbie at 11:35 AM
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