So, the other day I was cleaning up our truck because it has become a life-sucking money pit and we were going to look for a new car and would be potentially trading it in. I wanted it to look nice and shiny on the outside to help hide its evil inner soul. The mechanic gave us a subtle hint as to the fate of the truck the last time we took it in. We took it in because it was spewing a chocolate milk colored substance all over the driveway and I didn’t remember filling the chocolate milk reservoir under the hood. To quote the mechanic, “I’d git this thang fixed up real good this time and than sell it as fast as you can, cause it ‘aint gonna give you nothin’ but heartache (misspellings added).” And of course we didn’t “Sell it as fast as we can,” and of course it went back to the mechanic. We are now subleasing our backyard for sheep grazing in an attempt to pay the repair bills.
Anyway, as I was giving the truck what I hoped was its final scrub, I found myself having a conversation with the truck, it went something like this.
Me: You know, it didn’t have to end up like this.
Truck: (silence)
Me: It’s just... you really let yourself go
Truck: (silence)
Me: I mean, we gave you every advantage we could afford. We even rode our bikes to work and school for five years to keep your mileage down.
Truck: And how do you think that made me feel, seeing the other cars getting to go out and experience the world while I just sat there covered in oak sap? You heard the mechanic; the rust came from not being used.
Me: We didn’t know! We thought it was good for you. But that’s not even the point. Look at yourself lately… lower ball joints? Really? And the mechanic said the upper ball joints aren’t far behind. I mean, that’s just basic hygiene.
Truck: Sometimes I wonder, what’s the point? Why bother?
Me: Don’t talk like that; we had some good times too!
Truck: Oh yeah, like what?
Me: What about the everglades? You got to carry the canoe.
Truck: That thing’s a piece of crap!
Me: HEY! I know it’s not pretty, but it’s reliable. Unlike….
Truck: What?
Me: Nothing. There were all those trips to the beach. Those were fun, right?
Truck: You mean the ones where you wouldn’t pay the three bucks to drive on the beach? Man, I’ve got 4 wheel drive. I was made for that stuff. But like you would even know. How many times did you even put me in 4 wheel drive? Three? Four?
Me: You’re right. Maybe we could have taken a little better care of… (Trails off as I notice power steering fluid dripping off a gasket on the front steering arm, which I already replaced once)
Truck: You were saying?
Me: Nothing. We’re done here. I’m gonna vacuum and we’re done.
Truck: What did I say? Oh, come on. I’ll do better.
Me: (silence)
Truck: I’ll get better gas mileage.
Me: (silence)
Truck: I’m paid for. Can’t beat that. Come on! No payments… That’s nice, right?
The truck’s pleadings were soon drowned out by the roar of my shop vac. Which, on a side note, has enough suction to pick up a 10 pound boat anchor. No, really it does. I know from experience. You’ve gotta be careful where you aim it because you may unintentionally shop vac stuff you don’t want to.
To our dismay we came home with the truck, but there is always next weekend. I hope it dies a slow painful death in a scrap yard, slowly having its last usable parts ripped from its core until there is nothing left but a shell of its former self. Or not, whatever.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Friday, July 11, 2008
Follow me to Freedom
I recently had the "opportunity" to hike the Freedom Trail through downtown Boston. Not really having any idea what the Freedom Trail was, I had many grand ideas swirling in my head. My first thought was that it was the trail that William Wallace hiked after he screamed "Freedom!" in the movie Braveheart. Turns out his head was lopped off shortly after that, so he wasn't hiking anywhere. So I ruled that out. Ok, so I guess that was my only thought. What I found out is the Freedom Trail is a red line painted on the sidewalk that zigs and zags through downtown linking "historic" sites and just happens to pass through the shopping district like, 18 times.
I didn't really pay a whole lot of attention, but if someone at some point did use the Freedom Trail to escape from someone (or something?), the red line would make it easy know how to find Freedom... and would be really easy for the pursuers to know where you went. Maybe not the best idea if you are being chased. I got to see all kinds of fascinating sites, like Mother Goose's grave, Starbucks, and Paul Revere's church. You know, "One if by land, Two if by sea, Three if you really don't care." (I added that last part).
The point of all this is, that about halfway through (what seemed like about 22 miles into the trail) the Freedom Trail runs through a big courtyard surrounded by, you guessed it, Freedom Shops. These shops were the ones that our Fore (Four) (What? I have four dads?) Fathers shopped at, like Crate & Barrel and Banana Republic. I actually think that at Paul Revere's time they were fighting for their freedom from the Banana Republic, but that may not be quite historically accurate. Like I said, I didn't pay much attention.
Anyway, in this courtyard is your usual cornucopia of "street performers." The human statute, the jugglers, and the hip hop dance troupe to name a few. We walked up as the crowd was building and the hip hoppers were reaching the climax of their show. So picture this, a big speaker hooked up to a beat-down boombox, all duct-taped to a wheeled moving dolly. It really is the ultimate in portable music. So I'm standing and watching these 6 "brothas" (their words, not mine) wow the crowd with their clever wit and magical moves. At the same time that I'm being drawn into the beat of the music, I hear another voice out of my left ear; it starts out small and barely audible but gets closer and louder. I could only hear bits and pieces between the laughter and cheers of the crowd. It went something like this:
Right ear: ...need a volunteer from the crowd... you will do... come on out here.
Left Ear: ...Join Us...Bloodshed...Traitor... Death
Right Ear: Alright Boston, make some noise for our volunteer!!!! YEEEAAAHHHH!! (cheers)
Left Ear: ...Exciting... History... War...FREEDOM!!!
At this point I look over to see where this intriguing monologue was coming from and I saw him. Tights, puffy shirt, hat with a feather. I guess they call this "period attire." What that period it was I don't really know, I didn't realize dork was a period (that was mean, and I apologize) but two things became obvious: he was advertising Freedom Trail tours and he had to walk exactly on the red line painted on the ground (The Freedom Trail). I don't know if that last point was expressly written in his employment contract or just personal preference, but it was clear, he was sticking to his guns.
Right Ear: Alright Boston, my buddy Stringbean here will attempt to jump over, count 'em: 1...2...3...4...5...6 brothas...and one white kid (The volunteer). (Crowd laughs)
Left Ear: (Marching up and down along the crowd but staying exactly on the line) Tours begin soon... Come joins us for intrigue, deceit, and treason!! Learn about the history of this great city!
About this time a police car went flying by with its lights and sirens on and all 7 brothas simultaneously hit the deck and assumed different "I'm being arrested positions," leaving the white kid standing alone with a confused look on his face. The mostly white crowd went silent and for a second I thought things were going to get a bit awkward. It turns out that they were just inhaling really deep in order to let out a roaring raucous laughter. After the sirens died down the MC said something to the effect of "Wow, things are different here than in New York," and the crowd laughed again.
Right ear: (Dancers and white kid are lined up shoulder to shoulder and bent at the waist) Alright Boston, we have done this enough to know that as soon as Stringbean jumps over, count 'em: 1...2...3...4...5...6 brothas...and one white kid you are all going to leave. So we've gotta ask you for one favor... If you've enjoyed this show...
Left Ear: (At about this time, the crowd spilled over the line, blocking the freedom trail) Please join us...(trying to push his way through the crowd while staying on the line) Amazing tours... Um excuse me...excuse me...I'm trying to get through. Freedom Tours starting on the hour!
Right Ear: Open your wallets and take out 5... Or 10 dollars....and give us the rest (crowd laughs). No, really! If you give us 5 dollars we'll go home with full bellies...if you give us 10 dollars we'll go home feeling like we really made your day...
Left ear: (Now enveloped by the crowd, he can't move, but is determined to not get off the line) Freedom Tra...(crowd cheers) Join us at the top of the ho...(crowd applause) Learn abo...(laughter)
Right ear: And if you give us 20 dollars we'll go home... with you. No really, we'll ride home with you and do whatever you want us to. (crowd laughs)
Left ear: (Having had every attempt to yell immediately cut off by the crowd cheering for the duct taped boombox dance group, and stuck sandwiched in the enemies crowd by personal resolve to not leave the line he had no choice but to join them) Freedom tra... Excuse me... You know what... Whatever, ...GO STRINGBEAN!!!
It was at about this point we left. I don't know if Stringbean cleared, count 'em: 1...2...3...4...5...6 brothas...and one white kid, and I don't know if the crowd ever cleared enough for the Freedom tour guy to continue along his way, but I did learn two things. First, breakdancing and sideways hats will always draw a bigger crowd than history and puffy shirts and tights. And secondly, it's ok for black people to make fun of stereotypes about racial profiling in a large crowd of white people.
The Freedom trail really was a learning experience.
I didn't really pay a whole lot of attention, but if someone at some point did use the Freedom Trail to escape from someone (or something?
The point of all this is, that about halfway through (what seemed like about 22 miles into the trail) the Freedom Trail runs through a big courtyard surrounded by, you guessed it, Freedom Shops. These shops were the ones that our Fore (Four) (What? I have four dads?) Fathers shopped at, like Crate & Barrel and Banana Republic. I actually think that at Paul Revere's time they were fighting for their freedom from the Banana Republic, but that may not be quite historically accurate. Like I said, I didn't pay much attention.
Anyway, in this courtyard is your usual cornucopia of "street performers." The human statute, the jugglers, and the hip hop dance troupe to name a few. We walked up as the crowd was building and the hip hoppers were reaching the climax of their show. So picture this, a big speaker hooked up to a beat-down boombox, all duct-taped to a wheeled moving dolly. It really is the ultimate in portable music. So I'm standing and watching these 6 "brothas" (their words, not mine) wow the crowd with their clever wit and magical moves. At the same time that I'm being drawn into the beat of the music, I hear another voice out of my left ear; it starts out small and barely audible but gets closer and louder. I could only hear bits and pieces between the laughter and cheers of the crowd. It went something like this:
Right ear: ...need a volunteer from the crowd... you will do... come on out here.
Left Ear: ...Join Us...Bloodshed...Traitor... Death
Right Ear: Alright Boston, make some noise for our volunteer!!!! YEEEAAAHHHH!! (cheers)
Left Ear: ...Exciting... History... War...FREEDOM!!!
At this point I look over to see where this intriguing monologue was coming from and I saw him. Tights, puffy shirt, hat with a feather. I guess they call this "period attire." What that period it was I don't really know, I didn't realize dork was a period (that was mean, and I apologize) but two things became obvious: he was advertising Freedom Trail tours and he had to walk exactly on the red line painted on the ground (The Freedom Trail). I don't know if that last point was expressly written in his employment contract or just personal preference, but it was clear, he was sticking to his guns.
Right Ear: Alright Boston, my buddy Stringbean here will attempt to jump over, count 'em: 1...2...3...4...5...6 brothas...and one white kid (The volunteer). (Crowd laughs)
Left Ear: (Marching up and down along the crowd but staying exactly on the line) Tours begin soon... Come joins us for intrigue, deceit, and treason!! Learn about the history of this great city!
About this time a police car went flying by with its lights and sirens on and all 7 brothas simultaneously hit the deck and assumed different "I'm being arrested positions," leaving the white kid standing alone with a confused look on his face. The mostly white crowd went silent and for a second I thought things were going to get a bit awkward. It turns out that they were just inhaling really deep in order to let out a roaring raucous laughter. After the sirens died down the MC said something to the effect of "Wow, things are different here than in New York," and the crowd laughed again.
Right ear: (Dancers and white kid are lined up shoulder to shoulder and bent at the waist) Alright Boston, we have done this enough to know that as soon as Stringbean jumps over, count 'em: 1...2...3...4...5...6 brothas...and one white kid you are all going to leave. So we've gotta ask you for one favor... If you've enjoyed this show...
Left Ear: (At about this time, the crowd spilled over the line, blocking the freedom trail) Please join us...(trying to push his way through the crowd while staying on the line) Amazing tours... Um excuse me...excuse me...I'm trying to get through. Freedom Tours starting on the hour!
Right Ear: Open your wallets and take out 5... Or 10 dollars....and give us the rest (crowd laughs). No, really! If you give us 5 dollars we'll go home with full bellies...if you give us 10 dollars we'll go home feeling like we really made your day...
Left ear: (Now enveloped by the crowd, he can't move, but is determined to not get off the line) Freedom Tra...(crowd cheers) Join us at the top of the ho...(crowd applause) Learn abo...(laughter)
Right ear: And if you give us 20 dollars we'll go home... with you. No really, we'll ride home with you and do whatever you want us to. (crowd laughs)
Left ear: (Having had every attempt to yell immediately cut off by the crowd cheering for the duct taped boombox dance group, and stuck sandwiched in the enemies crowd by personal resolve to not leave the line he had no choice but to join them) Freedom tra... Excuse me... You know what... Whatever, ...GO STRINGBEAN!!!
It was at about this point we left. I don't know if Stringbean cleared, count 'em: 1...2...3...4...5...6 brothas...and one white kid, and I don't know if the crowd ever cleared enough for the Freedom tour guy to continue along his way, but I did learn two things. First, breakdancing and sideways hats will always draw a bigger crowd than history and puffy shirts and tights. And secondly, it's ok for black people to make fun of stereotypes about racial profiling in a large crowd of white people.
The Freedom trail really was a learning experience.
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