Today I decided to paint the things. They had semi-rusty stripes due to uneven exposure to the world caused by the wheel covers. Ignore any over-spray on the tires. That will be gone quickly. I did not shine up the tires in the process. Another time, maybe.
You can still see part of my dirt road on the rubber. It was another hot day, but we had a welcome downpour at midday. I'd run up and down the hill on errands, enjoying the softening effect the mud had on the crazy washboard, teeth-jarring stretch during my last trip home.
So, of all the cabins in all the hills in all the county, she shows up at mine. The cowgirl up the hill. Maybe past discrepancies have dissolved.
I guess it didn't hurt that I flagged her down while I was playing around with Rustoleum. I had just sprayed all the rims with the flat black primer. She encouraged me to finish it off with the gloss black. I had both. She may have been right. I did end up doing the final coat with the shiny stuff.
I just wanted a good looking dame on the property so as I saw her wave in passing I did the "come on down here" wave, and she backed up and drove in. There is a God.
A man has to experience such things from time to time or he becomes convinced his life is possibly devoid of...spirit.
It is good to keep friendships. Perhaps I'll just have to institute a no more than one text per day rule, should this get interesting. She tends to get carried away in that regard. I must say, the dame was looking swell. I guess my resolve, of which I probably haven't written, is coming to fruition rapidly.
When it rains it pours, though, and that can get complicated. That's OK. Said precipitation is several states away and who knows. I figure that Ms Right and Perfect will slip away if I don't get some practice in which will improve my manners and prepare me well. It's happened before. I want to be ready when this mythical being crosses my path.
Maybe I'll hit the open mic they have in the Starbuck's patio area tomorrow. The lady associated with that has given me good word-on-the-street, and facebook reviews. Nice dame. And my pal Cliff may be there, as well as another good player or two. I'll show off my newly painted, plain jane wheels.
I must say, I now feel smart owning a car the same color as Ballistic mountain dirt.
Maybe with the crazy wheels it at least looks like a butch lesbian car. (G1, in Memphis, informed me when I bought the first tourmobile that the Forester is the official vehicle of lesbians in America, so don't blame me) Not that anything is wrong with being a lesbian, butch lesbian, bull dyke, gay, transgender, bi and/or tri sexual. Some of my best friends are Black. Oops, wrong apologist line.
Some of my best friends are LBGTBDBLTS. And many speak languages other than English. That's better. Good thing I have high cheek bones and ample pigmentation, and I'm not always hitting on all cylinders. That excuses me, and increases my latitude in mentioning cultural divisions.
We call it maize, you call it corn.