In praise of clunkers
The inconveniences of life keep you humble, as least that's what I tell myself as I go to my vehicle that only has air-conditioning if you pray really really hard, touch the AM radio button, hold your breath, and sing an old Hank Sr. song.
Tennessee is still humid and hot, even in September, and this vehicular flaw has cramped my style a bit.
Yesterday, for example, my friend and I wanted to go to lunch.
"You'll have to drive," she said. "My husband has the good car... All I have is the 'courage-mobile.'"
That's what we named their van with 300,000 miles without air conditioner, blue accented only by rust. Because it takes courage to get into the thing.
So, there we were, trying to do a cost benefit analysis of whether we wanted to go to lunch enough to justify perspiration and wind blown hair.
We did.
By the time we got to the little cafe downtown where the little old ladies dine, in their hats and dresses, we looked a mess. But I did realize my friend valued lunch with me so much!
We straightened out our clothes, wiped the sweat off our brows, tossed back our mussed hair, and walked right to our table and ordered ice tea.
Together.
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