Cars cars cars cars cars cars cars

Kevin tells me that tomorrow we will buy a new car. Well, not at NEW car- but a new very-old-car. I've got only 2 items on my wish list. OK. Maybe three.
1. Power steering. This one is actually a little negotiable.
2. Air conditioning. MUCH LESS negotiable.
3. No noxious fumes. TOTALLY NOT negotiable.

I haven't told our old car. He's still waiting patiently in our driveway under the mistaken delusion that we might get so desperate that we'll drive it again. I hate to be harsh - but I think even Kevin has recogniz(s)ed that "Wow. Is THAT a bad idea."

See, last weekend (Sat) he actually drove all the way to Indooroopilly (I have no idea- something like "In- dru-pilly"). The original plan was then to drive further to Ipswich...and back home in the wee hours of the night. All of this madness was, in fact, inspired by his passion for boardgames.

Love. It drives us to poor decisions- and Indooroopilly.

Yes. He made it TO Indooroopilly. About half-way he woke from his lust-coma to find that there was smoke coming from EVERYWHERE - enough to possibly obscure the clear vision of OTHER drivers. Like the poor sod who was behind him. But, so as not to lose face with the Gentlemen Gamers of Verona he kept on.

Keep on keeping on.

He did, however, take the train to Ipswich and back home.

Meaning that on Sunday I got to ride home with him in the smoke-mobile.

You get a lot of attention when your car looks like a carbon-emitting Pig-Pen. People honk. They point (various fingers). They roll down their windows (JUST A LITTLE) to holler "Your car is on fire".

We made it home with still something like 54% lung capacity....and NO tickets.

So.

I haven't told the smoke-mobile. But, it isn't like that. I haven't had an unnatural affection for a vehicle of the automobile persuasion since I was in my teens/twenties. Fritz, the Wonder Car!

He broke my heart. And, there's never ever been another true love.