Oy! I tried to update a picture and delete a widget, and in the process I messed up my margins...drats. I am much too tired to deal with it tonight, so perhaps tomorrow...which for you is likely today.

Do Good Cars Go To Heaven?

Brandon's car, as I lovably refer to as the Landcrapper (old, old Landrover), has finally died. It is parked outside of a scrapyard, as the yard was closed today. Whoaaaa is the transmission.

We bought the Landcrapper used, and from day one it was a lemon. So in a way I am glad to be rid of it. But deep inside me there is a little melancholy stab. We bought the car when Ashley was in preschool, and so although it required more work than an a-list celebrity, it's kinda sad.

So what if the sunroof leaked when it rained. Who cares if "Ashley" was etched into the back window, because Ashley was learning to write and found someting sharp to practice with. Does it matter that the dash was cracked and stuff was hanging down by our feet? And really...just because it didn't get stolen from downtown after sitting for days unlocked in a lot after breaking down ...does that reduce its worth? Yeah..okay, I guess it does

Anyway I thought to myself, awwww it sits in a lot waiting to be picked apart by scavengers. How sad - in fact it reminded me a little of this story.

It then struck me that I was personifying a car...why would I do that? I'll tell you why.... Disney. When I was little, I would fall asleep listening to Disney records. Remember this? Apparently my subconscious does too.

Of course it isn't just our cars that have feelings, our houses do to, at least according to Walt. Remember this?

Okay...enough of my Disney psychosis.

Anyway - we spent ALL day driving around the very hot Inland Empire looking for a 40-60's era classic or muscle car that would provide B some wheels. He is desirous of something in need of an overhaul, as long as it runs....and my preference would be less than 2 plastic tubs of parts. We have an old BelAir with lots of boxes of parts and anyone who restores cars know exactly what I am talking about.

I drove for thousands of miles, or at least it seemed like it, only to find that the car owners had beer goggle visions of their "only need a little work" cars. But harder than the miles and heat were the two teens in the backseat who argued over everything from the radio to the armrest to who started it. It did not help that their dad was egging them on.

He made it up to me by making dinner (he is a far better cook.) It was quite delicious :) So I am off to bed, without proofreading YIKES!

Shell