Tape......

A few months back, I'd thrown lawnchairs behind the backseat in my ole' 95' Lebaron convertible so the grandbabies would have a place to sit. After dropping them off - the weather was el gorgeous, so I put the top down.... Crunch. Lawnchair tried (and did) come thru the back window - shattering it into a kajillion pieces. A $300 boo boo.

Heavy plastic and tape worked....... for a short. I made light of it, and car was undoubtedly the laughing stock of work parking lot. A week or so later, the transmission decided it had had enough. (Can you use 'had had' together?) There's no taping a transmission, and the fee to fix (along with the window replacement) almost doubled the value of the car, so, one phone call to junkyard "yeah, we'll buy it, $300,"... "Ok, works."

Car shopping. "Upgraded" to an ole' '99 Grand Marquis - hey, don't laugh, it came complete with a cassette tape player, one of those trunk/alarm/auto-lock thingies (Even though moments happened like when I walked out of the Piggly Wiggly and my trunk was up for no fathomable reason.) - and a numerical 'combination code' to gain entry - setup with the feller's birthday date from 1920. Cool.

This blog is checkenginelight for a reason. I think back to Bill Hallisey's (wonderful man) "Used and Abused" junk store - and that's kinda been the story of my car history, as well as other/all facets of life... house looking great, furnace goes out... job awesome, fly anywhere for $6, company goes bankrupt.. married to the prettiest lady in town, oops, there she went.

Pity? Hardly. I've loved my life, the path. Just when the moment comes to start acting all cocky, reality sets one back in place. Anyways, you get the drift.. I think.

Tape. Long about 100 miles into traversing around town in my "damn this thing is big, I've already run over two curbs turning right" car, I noticed some black electrical tape to the left of the speedometer. Seems the 'checkenginelight' was consistently on, and figure the old dude covered it with the black tape so it wouldn't bug him driving at night. This/my age, completely understand - and appreciate.

Correction tape, somewhat passé', but I still occasionally use it for errors when faxing docs at work. Backspacing is the 'new' tape. Duct tape/bailing wire. All the King's horses and all the King's men.....

Some things, tape doesn't work on. Won't bring a bullet back. Won't make words flown out of the mouth inaudible. A Facebook post can be deleted - but certain there are similar addicts as I who've surely read - cannot be taped over.

Victor, you're rambling again, tape your mouth shut. HAHA, and nanny nanny boo boo, it's my fingers 'talking'! OK, well then is there a moral to all this cockamamie writing?

I suppose. We all have 'tape moments'. They frustrate us. Remind us of life's imperfections. Our imperfections. And that we're human. (Victor, you can't start a sentence with "and".) And errors (will) happen.

We (all, I think) beat ourselves up occasionally when words have flown out and we wished we had had (geez Louise) tape over our mouth. Actions, behaviors, events happen often in life, and there is no correctable tape that can heal.

Duct. Scotch. Gorilla.. Worm (eww). Cassette. Video. Correction. When the story of our lives is taped together - about the only workable response is to laugh - admire the water that's gone under the bridge - and prepare to enjoy the current ahead.

No clever tape saying to end this. (Victor, who ever said your endings were clever?) Right you are alter ego. I could have backspaced you out, but you keep me in line - as do tape moments - and life. Love, Victurd.