Of tow trucks.. Hot Rod Lincolns.. And pieces of paper…

‘Twas a kinda shitty day. You have them?

I’d gone to bed reasonably early, awakened before the alarm. By golly, I’d even returned from visiting my buddy Annette at the Pour Boy fuel place to nab my coffee, cigs for the day “and fitteen on pump 3”….. I was back here drinking coffee, reading ur lackacomments ‘round 5:15am.

Maynard and I shoved off at our normal 6-3-0 am. Temp gauge on Hot… Rod.. Lincoln.. did it’s normal “I’m overheating” thingy five minutes into it. Ceptin’ this time, it didn’t “catch”. The heat didn’t come on, and the temp gauge arrow didn’t retreat. I hate when that happens.

So we basically broke down some 12 miles from home. Tow truck eventually called, back to Meineke (“Hi Hal, remember me?”) and $200 and 5 hours later I was back on road to work. Maynard said to hell with it. He’d “put in a day”, walked home, tooka sick day.

I clocked in at 12:36pm. Worked until 8pm.

So here I sit. Tossed back and forth “do I share that crap?” It’s kinda boring, and, of late, repetitive.. Or do I talk about “slips of paper.”

You know. As we sat (for several hours, pitifully helpless) at the Phillips 66 right’s offa I-35 in Gladstone.. I dug through “slips of paper” for my ex sister-in-law’s phone number. (She works where my son does, figured we’d catch her on the way in.. “Excuse me sir, can I have change for a dollar to use the phone? We’re broke down.” Scroll to some damn blog, no.. I ain’t gotta cell.)

So, I spent a dolla fitty on calls to her cell… “Hi, this is Kim, please leave a message” (3 times).. fitty cents to call work “I’m broke down…….. Again.”……. And another buck to call Meineke (“Hal, this is Vic. Remember me? With the HRL piecea-crap you prayed you’d neva see again?) and fitty cents to the tow service. Our car was 200 yards from the pay phone. “Yessir, we can tow you, can I get a call back number?”… Ahm, I ain’t gotta cell, and I’m not sure what this pay phone number is.. But I can tell you this.. We sure as hell ain’t going anywhere.”)

So the kid and I had two hours together. Light. Laughing. We needed that. Some (not intended) heavy stuff. In the midst of those trips across the 200 yards to the pay phone, I found three, COUNT ‘EM THREE, “headsup” pennies. Now I made some wishes, and yes, mebbe onea ‘em mighta been about the car - but I sureashell ain’t sharing the other wishes with the likes of you.

Victor, you’re title says “and pieces of paper.” The hells that about?
I’ll tellya. I gotta nifty leather Bolivian wallet, given to me by “Here Vic, we’re the uppity son-of-a-guns… we travel the world over on behalf of our company.. .stay in wonderful places… get wasted.. Play golf each day.. But oh, here, this Bolivian agent gave us a cool leather wallet, it’s all yours."

Within this “cool Bolivian wallet” are many pieces of paper with names/numbers, yes, primarily women’s numbers. It’s reasonably fun to dig thru - and occasionally I will run onta one “Jeannie, XXX-XXX-XXXX” ß her number. I have to stop and think “Whothehell is Jeannie?

Embarrassingly, I have several’a them slips of paper. Some I don’t recall. Some I don’t wanna recall. And some, musta had caller ID ‘cause they never picked up. Being the ever so, always am, gotta be, eternal optimist. All it takes is one slippa paper. The right one.

I ain’t revisited my New Year’s Resolutions of late, but I think I’m on course with most! So today, I proclaim: “I WILL find that ‘just right’ (Goldilocks) slippa paper.. And I WILL get laid (sorry.. WITH FEEL.. “HER”… “YES”.. “THE LAST”.. “UNTIL WE PEE OUR PANTS AND CAN’T REMEMBER EACH OTHER’S NAME”) at some point before John
McCain turns 80. (Which, if I touched all the right knuckles counting up, should be somewhere ‘round 2015, his second term of office.)

May your antifreeze stay circulatin’. May slips of paper be special for you. And may you have the watoosies to ‘comment’.. “Victor, mebbe when you’re undecided about what to write about, you take a night off. Hear?”

I didn’t win the Powerball. I almost made it thru 8 hours at work today. I’m still praying about them two other ‘headsup’ pennies. My secret, haha, you’ll never know.

Love, Victurd