The day, the music died......

A long, long time ago I can still remember how my father and sister used to make me smile and I knew if I had my chance that I relive the way those people could dance and maybe they'd be happy for a while…. but February made me shiver - with every truckload I delivered, bad news on the door step, I couldn't take one more step….but something touched me deep inside, the day, the music, died. So...

Twas “Birthday Day” at work. A celebration of all June birthdays. Everyone brings junk, and we all rationalize about our waistlines being able to allow it because the day is special.

So I head to the Piggly Wiggly 15 minutes earlier than I normally head out. Damn, it’s raining. Hard. Uh oh. Flat tire in driveway. Enter “shit” here. So I waller on the ground, shorts on - got nifty brown stains on ma knees.. Good ole blackened hands from the lug nuts, carrying the tires. I even got up on the right side of the bed. (I never understood that saying.)

The tire I put on had a ‘valley’ in it, which made car vibrate so bad, if I’da been a chicky and had a Bob, it wouldn’t evena needed batteries. So, weaving from lane to lane, up and down, I went probably 35 miles down my 33 and ½ mile path.

I know, lunchtime I’ll go get another tire. I highly recommend Mr. Tire. It’s a used tire (I know I know) place.. They’ve got jackstands waiting for you outside, you pull up, they guide you in, then the worker ants attack, and presto - you still got time on your lunch hour to drive thru Wendies.

Today they were packed full. So, I found a nifty pole that was downhill - remember RNDL, no P. Decided where I was someone might back into me - so figured I’d better move it. Tried to put it in R for Race. Enter “oh shit” here. Huh uh. Gearshift had about the same “I wanna work for you” as Maynard. And that ain’t much. Actually, it’s none. No P. No R. Probably had N. No D. No L. (Enter “gotdandruff, someofititches” here.)

Walked to Auto fixup joint. “Can I buy a cana tranny fluid?” HUH? (ten minute explanation.) Walked back (block anda half). Filled it. This time, the gearshift moves freely, like a lady on ice - but it doesn’t do anything to propel the car in either direction. My thoughts went to: Victor, you just got paid, but mosta that goes for the house payment. There is some left. I know you love this car, but at 213,784 miles is it really worth sinking another penny in? NO, DON’T SAY THAT.. THIS WAS MY SISTER’S CAR.. And THEN MY DAD’S CAR. It really is/has been special. (Enter “why hell” here) I even named my GD (gosh darn works) blog [checkenginelight] after the trials and tribulations of the car, in comparison to the same in life. Checkengine light would come on, go off.. Same with brake light. Same with life.

Sooooo… I walk back to the auto fixemup place… 15 minute explanation about “gotta be towed, ain’t much in bank balance, call me first before spending any dough, and can I borrow your phone to call a co-worker to pick me up.” (Oh, and it doesn’t have park.. Oh, and the key is broke off in the ignition - but there’s a stubby screwdriver on the dash that’ll start it every time.) I think they musta thought a looney had escaped from the nearby shelter.

So… I can’t get aholda anyone at work… Owner says “I’ll giveya a ride.” So he does. We talk. He’s gotta car for sale. I ain’t gots that much, but I liked it. Said “thanks, and we’ll see.”

Back at cubicle at 1pm. Fixemup place closes at 5, doesn’t reopen until Monday morning. “Eh, not real sure we can get to it today, we’re kinda backed up.”

Fix it? Get ridda it? Fix it? Get ridda it?… So….. In a matter of 45 minutes, I had enough bones in my pocket thanks to our financial dude and a note on my 401K to go purchase another tanker, 1995 Lincoln Continental. Hey, it looks better than it sounds. It has Park. A key that you can insert. A complete - allthewayacross bumper in front. Four matching hubcaps. The headliner ain’t falling down. You don’t have to put it in neutral at stop signs to keep it running. THE AC WORKS. It doesn’t overheat. The emergency brake ain’t stuck.
And it has the snazziest cassette tape player you ever seen (Enter “LMAO” here.)

So I bought it. And I welled up as I transferred all the personal junk from checkenginelight to the “"Son, you're gonna drive me t' drinkin', If you don't quit drivin' that - Hot ... Rod ... Lincoln!"

The very last trinket outta the trunk that I’d been storing in there “for just awhile’ (’Twas the coffee mug my son gave me on birthday forty that said “40 isn’t old… if you’re a tree.”) So the complete transition was made. From my sister - to my father - to cleaning it out with current memories of my son… to it’s final resting place - whoever the American Cancer Society takes it to. Fitting. Even though sister gone from breast cancer 8 years now, today simply added to our key phrase “Beat the Bastard.” Maybe, just maybe this will be the dollar to help make miracles happen.

I be stylin’ now. Hell, I just may yet go after me onea them Leawood blonde divorcees.

They were singin... Bye, bye Miss Checkenginelight, drove my Taurus to the Tire joint but the gearshift was dry an them good ol' boys were drinkin whiskey and rye singin this will be the day that it dies. This will be the day that it dies.

Toodles. Going to go write the book of love and yes I have faith in God above…. Love you Vanda. Love you dad. It served us well. Love, Victurd.