USED CAR SALESMEN

I might be sexist, but I did expect to find at least one female car salesperson.


I approach car lots with sheer dread, thinly veneered by a bravado of a no-nonsense attitude. I literally tell the first person I see, "Can you find me someone who wants to sell me a pickup today?"


I walked around a lot of lots - I sat inside quite a few cabs - and I drove one truck I may actually end up purchasing, if I can talk them down to a reasonable APR rate (by sheer misfortune, the Toyota Tacoma is selling well enough that they don't need to offer the 0% they have on almost all of their other vehicles).

But why can't they just put them on a shelf (theoretically, of course) with a price, and you pick them up, put them in your cart (still figuratively), and check out? Yes, people make money the way it is done now - and I don't live outside a large-enough town to do the bargin-comparison-who-can-make-me-a-better-deal.
 
Okay, girlfriend, take a deep breath, and just get ready to make the plunge. 

DOUBLE HOMICIDE

When does a murder become an assassination? Do you have to be at a certain level of political influence?

And why do assassins always have three names? ("David Berkowitz, Ted Bundy, Richard Speck... . Serial killers only have two names. You ever notice that? But lone gunmen assassins, they always have three names. John Wilkes Booth, Lee Harvey Oswald, Mark David Chapman..." - can anyone tell me where that quote is from... and is it a little bit sad that I know?)

Today I was involved in two deaths... well, symbolic ones, perhaps, but extremely emotional ties. I had to sign the death certificate... er, well, "Total Loss" insurance agreement, for my truck. I could console myself that it was at the very least an organ donar (it's parts will be recycled), but I was also abandoning my constant (and completely paid-off) companion of the past seven years.

I also have invested a (conservative estimate) $450 in bumper stickers over the years.

The other was a sudden but not completely unforseen termination - I opened my cell phone not five minutes after ratifying my poor truck's decease, and it, quite literally, fell apart.

Now, some people can do okay without a cell phone - but it is my only phone. I don't exactly live and die by it - but I count on it.

And, just like my truck, I have invested a lot of time and energy in this phone - individual photos, ring tones, short-cuts, background.... and a WHOLE lot of phone numbers.

So this period of mourning may go on for a while; I will need time to recover.... as well as a new truck (I've already replaced the phone - have you seen the ads for the new "Android"? I got one!!!).

A PERIOD OF MOURNING, PLEASE

AP: Tuesday, April 16, 2010: Sierra Vista, AZ: HEADLINE NEWS: A national day of mourning has been announced to honor the demise of Hope Wiltfong's 2003 Mazda B2000 Pick-Up Truck, affectionately nicknamed Blanca.

Officials representing GEICO insurance this morning declared the vehicle "not worth the repair costs" following a low-impact collision with the official Little Old Lady of Pasadena (no, wait, that should be ME, not the other driver, right?). Family members were contacted, and will be with the truck when it is officially taken off life-support early tomorrow morning.

Known county-wide as "that stupid pick-up with all those asinine bumper stickers," Blanca provided years of casual reading for all behind her at traffic lights, the drive-through at Dairy Queen, and the parking lot of Target. Her owner, Hope Wiltfong, insisted that "I will continue to cover her with bumper statements until you can no longer see any white truck" while also categorically denying that it was intended to be any sort of racial statement.

Black armbands will distributed at Mazda dealers nation-wide, with one minute of silent tribute to be paid at 12:34 p.m. Arizona non-Daylight Savings Time. In lieu of flowers, the family asks that donations be made to the American Motor Engines Nation-wide (A.M.E.N.).

MUSKRAT LOVE

There are fictional examples of cross-species love - Beauty and the Beast - the cat and the fiddle had something going on - King Kong was willing to do a lot for Fay somebody - and Miss Piggy and Kermit the Frog, of course

So... hey, who knows.

Well, there is Sally, my mare, is old - old enough that she can't chew hay, and needs to be fed a special senior equine meal. However, she still regularly comes into heat, and believes, in the exact same manner that all of us hold an image of us in our best teenage-or-early-20's years in our heads, that she is a young mare prancing around attracting all the stallions that exist... at least in her fantasies.

And today her stud-radar was up and running about something directly east of her pasture - and enough dancing was going on that I actually walked out to see if there was possible a loose horse out there... or a cloud shaped like a horse... or signs of any possible performance-enhancement drugs that Sally is taking....

And guess what she was fixating on?

A pig. In the corral on the next property. A big, white sow.

Ah, true love, at last.

SERENDIPITY OR FAITH?

Last night I was blogging (defined as Hope's late-at-night randomings) about my truck and bumper stickers....

... and then this morning at least eleven of those gummed labels need to be replaced.

As well as the passenger door of my truck.

But that, of course, is secondary.

The accident was almost poetic - a little old lady (literally - probably in her late 60's or early 70's) drove out a church parking lot directly into the side of my truck.

She wasn't hurt, I wasn't hurt, but of course we had to have the police come and make a report - and because of her age, I asked that the EMTs also come and make certain she was okay.

Know what? We've got a lot of cute fireman, EMTs and cops here in Sierra Vista.

The only problem, really, was that the one car rental place in town closes at noon on Saturday... and the accident happened at 11:50 a.m.

The truck made it home -- but only after I made certain the insurance company wouldn't have any problem towing it if we couldn't make it all the way.

Rental car on Monday - what fun!

EYE DON'T HAVE IT

"Look me in the eye, boy!"  "He met my gaze unflinchingly."  "Their eyes locked the moment she walked in the room."  "All eyes turned obediently to page 56 in the textbook."

So why don't people want to make eye contact anymore?

I tried one time to explain to a friend the difference between looking and staring, and it really is just a matter of time. So when passing another shopper in aisle A28 of Target (cosmetics, by the way), a glance is fine, a nod of the head is almost forward, but actually LOOKING STRAIGHT AT THEIR FACE.... OMGNO!!!!!

I have a couple of theories as to why. We as women have unwittingly allowed ourselves to view each other as competitors in some sort of ultimate Survivor episode, vying for attention from each other, scouting out others' weaknesses, and inwardly laughing at women who dress unfashionably. And this happens regardless of is we  are happily married, content with our present boyfriend or enjoying being single - - 'other' women are our enemy... at least in casual, public interactions.

So I, of course, am a source of immense satisfaction for almost all women I pass - I'm usually in baggy jeans, an old sweatshirt torn (not tastefully) at the shoulder, no makeup, and my old-lady reading glasses perched on my nose, and my hair looks like I just rolled out of bed (which 95% of time is true).

And since I am the grandmotherly age now, it's easier for me to strike up conversations because "oh, this nice confused old lady is talking about something; I should be polite and pretend to listen to her."

What's that expression, age over beauty, right?

So, the whole reason I am babbling about this subject is I am constantly bewildered by the number of people who walk by my truck when it is parked, glance at it, obviously notice it is literally covered headlight to tailgate by 153 bumper statements (well, maybe they can't tell at one glance that it's 153 unless they are some sort of math savant).

But then, just like in the store aisles, they immediately look away and walk past it without another glance.

Now, I could be much more accepting of this behavior except that when I am on the road, driving my moving billboard, without exception EVERYone reads the stickers. People driving behind me - people who get right in my blind spot to read - in my rear-view mirror at traffic lights, I can see their lips moving (did you know a whole lot of people do that when they read?).

I wonder if it is because someone might notice them reading, and they are afraid they will get beaten up by association - could anyone think I put them on as secret bumper stickers that no one else is supposed to read?

It confuses me - and I already am more than enough confused.

A WEE TINY ONE FOR AN HOUR OR SO

Tonight I held a baby for about 45 minutes. Mainly because I remember all too well how exhausting it is to have a three-month old full-time, and wanted to give the young mom a little bit of a break.


But each time I have an infant in my arms, it seems to be the first time I can smell that distinct baby/clean/blanket/almost-sweet odor. The complete abandonment of their body when they fall asleep. And the just wisp of breath that comes softly from their parted lips.


It makes complete sense that we as mothers find these little creatures so enchanting - otherwise humans would not survive one generation.

And I have absolutely no desire to become a mother at my quite-a-bit-beyond-middle-age age (I mean, honestly, how could I expect to live to be 108 years old?). I am ecstatic that my grandchildren have two exceptionally capable parents that are not drug-addicts, homeless, and/or incapable of raising them - in other words, I am very grateful that I am NOT obligated to raise my grandkids at my age, as several of my friends at church are currently.


But they are nice to hold... for just a little while.