The Old New Truck

On the Way Again Weekly Photo Challenge

Did this old truck look so bright

when Grandpa bought it new?

If only gears could spin her tales

of journeys long and true.

Did she make a great grand-stand

in years gone long ago,

sold and sold from hand to hand

for work and not for show?

And where’s she off to next I ask?

Another place to make folks smile,

a beautiful relic of the past

that keeps on truckin’ mile to mile.

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The Discombobulated Ditz’s Downhill Dilemma

I am only discombobulated when confronted with threats to life and limb.

I must tell you I blame husband, Bill and good friend, Norma who are both probably responsible for yesterday’s tortuous  journey.

On the way back from Lexington, Virginia I noticed a flashing light on the dash.  It was an insistent throbbing warning light with the image of a car going down a very steep hill!  Yikes! I wasn’t even ON a hill!

 In a real panic, I pulled into the first logical parking lot

which happened to be at our local funeral home. 

Was the car DYING? 

A funeral home parking lot would be an ironic resting place.

Were the brakes shot?

Was I doomed to crash at the bottom of some bottomless precipice?  

Should I drive all the way home?

 I consulted the auto’s Information Manual.  Nothing.

I turned the car off.  The flashing image disappeared.

 I turned it on.  The flashing image re-appeared.

Having made perfect sense of the on-off thing,

 I moved the clutch up and down to different places.   No change there either.

With no other options, and in a breathless state of irrational fear, I made the shaking decision to drive on home.

  There is an explanation here if you will just stick around a little longer.  Really.

It begins with Bill (who I blame for everything of course).  He keeps a car oiled and inspected, but he doesn’t really care about keeping it pristine.

I try to ignore  dust on the dashboard, and pebbles, paper, and bits of junk on the floor, but eventually I disintegrate into obsessive compulsive behavior.  The obsession magnifies, especially if I will be the driver for the next outing with friend, Norma.

I do always blame Bill for everything of course, but for this incident I also blame Norma (who doesn’t yet know her culpability). This fearsome event was because her car is always immaculate!  I do so admire Norma and her car but I feel shame about mine!

Anyway, it’s my turn to drive on our next outing so I began the arduous (slightly obsessive) herculean task of ArmorAll-ing, vacuuming, and removing dust and mud from door frames.  “ArmorAll Wipes” help when I am in a shopping mall parking lot.  That’s where I, well – o.k. I admit it –  SWAB THINGS!

The results so far were a dust-free driver’s side!  Success in sight!

So yesterday, in the grocery store parking lot I began swabbing the steering wheel and then moved on down to the clutch areas, etc.  Of course that was before the fearsome warning light came on.   Then came that harrowing white knuckle drive!

Safely arriving home with no extraordinary catastrophes, the problem was turned over to Bill, who (much as I hate to admit it) immediately solved the problem.  It seems that  my aggressive swabbing unwittingly depressed the downhill  “assist” button (near the clutch), resulting in an afternoon of terror and  erratic driving.

Please do not ask what the “downhill assist button” means or is!  I have no clue.

But, all it took to restore order was to re-press the little downhill assist button once again.  Voila!  The flashing light is off!

However,

My Final

Messages to Bill and Norma

How to Prevent Discombobulated Ditzy Driving Among Your Peers

Answer #1:  Bill, be more fastidious about keeping our car clean!

Answer #2:   Norma, be sloppier and leave your car dirty for our outings!

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Getting Lost with Lola

Lola

Nowadays there is no excuse for a driver to get lost – not with the wonderful Global Positioning Systems around.  The little gadget with a lady inside actually talks you through the twists and turns of life, and almost everyone I know has one or has tried one.   Our youngest granddaughter named ours “Lola.”

I LOVE LOLA!

Well, at t first I loved Lola.  She was so cute when she said, “Recalculating” or even when she consistently interrupted interesting conversations with “Turn Left in 1.6 miles” and “Continue on Highway 81 for 2.4 miles and then turn right on Gleason Street.”  Isn’t modern technology wonderful?

Lola always does her annoying best to get us there.  Even so, my husband and I still manage to get lost in strange cities.  Once, in New Jersey, we could actually see our destination but began to think it was a mirage. “Look!  There’s our hotel across the street!”  After infuriating ineffectual circling and extreme frustration (since Lola kept droning, “RECALCULATING!”), we finally gave up and called the hotel concierge.  “Help! We can see your place from here, but it looks like it is to the left of us and there’s no left turn and if we go right, we wind up in traffic going the wrong way.  No, I don’t know what street we are on because there’s no street sign.  A GPS?   Ha!”

I don’t know why we have so much trouble getting somewhere when the somewhere is in plain sight.  And although I would like to, I can’t really blame Lola for the New Jersey debacle.  Like I said, “In her somewhat annoying way, she tries.”  But, at least that particular time we wound up laughing.  It should be noted that we are not always so amicable in stressed traffic situations or other times when we get lost in parking garages.

RECALCULATING LOVE FOR LOLA

There was the time we were in the Hershey Park, Pennsylvania parking lot, ready to leave.  “Where did we come in?” Bill asked.  “Uh back behind those buildings over there I think.”  And off we went, heading for the back of the lot, which turned out to be the wrong way after all.  “I thought you said BEHIND THOSE BUILDINGS!”  “Uhhhh… where are we anyway?” I wonder as we aimlessly circle the parking lot.  Finally, we hit a spot where Miss Smarty Pants Lola kicked in and said, “RECALCULATING!”  Grrrrr.

I can hear her infuriating voice now, “Turn Right at XYZ Street in 1.6 miles.”  But OMG – Bill turned LEFT onto a freeway going nowhere with no turns to get back for the next 60 miles! “RECALCULATING.”   Oh, Lola – SHUT UP!  And “Why didn’t you tell me to turn LEFT?” hollers Bill.  “BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU WERE LISTENING TO LOLA!”   “WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO ANYWAY – LOLA?”   x*ja$#xxx”/X@#!!!  Now I am ready, really ready, to jump out the door onto the freeway.

We still take maps too, and plot our travel routes in strange cities the old way.   And I still try to balance everything on my lap and go from reading glasses to sunglasses and back trying to give supplemental directions to help Lola with her insurmountable tasks.

By the second day of our vacation I think I dislike Lola.  By the third day, I dislike her intensely and I wonder if she would stop talking if I stepped on her.

The fact is, we are getting ready for another vacation and I can guarantee we will be lost more often than not.  So guess who is coming along TO HELP?  LOLA!

WHATEVER LOLA WANTS, LOLA GETS

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