Yesterday I made a run for Wal-Mart (first time in 8 years) to get coolant for Lady Miss T at work. She said she’d overheated on that bloody great Gaglardi hill so I said, “let us go to your car and check your coolant!” and like, there wasn’t any. Her brother, who is, like, the anti-Jeff, had told her he’d checked the coolant and he dinnnnt. Lie or mistake, it was pretty typical. I looked at her and said, “You are not moving this car. Let us go talk to beautiful Bossie and see if I can’t get a hall pass.” You may infer from the fact that it took me 40 minutes from door to door that my observation of the speed limit during this excursion was notional and inconsistent. SFU to Lougheed Mall and back, including a purchase….yeah.
Day before yesterday, I had a brief and hormonally truncated visit to Paul and Keith’s (Paul said something innocuous and I burst into tears and ran away, aren’t I special, but at least Paul and Keith had the decency to shrug it off) and while I, tears still drying on my face and clutching my mandolin, was escaping to my car, Paul’s brand new neighbour said something that stopped me in my tracks. She said, “I like your purple car”, and her male companion (actually her daughter’s agent) said, “Yeah, that’s a 94 Ford Probe GT and I think that’s the version with the special paint. I’ve owned four Probes, they are my favourite car.” AN HOUR LATER I pried myself away. Much restored, I went on my way home.