Happy Birthday Barbara!

Uh, sixteen, isn't it? Happy birthday.

That's "sixteen" is mostly a joke about my increasing senility, Ma'am. There is no way in Hershey that I'd wish a grown adult, even someone I disliked, the pain and anguish of reliving their teens. Having a rewind button to go back to their thirties? I'm not sure even that would be a blessing. It seems to me that the guy who said "Life begins at 40" must have been an early bloomer.

Speaking of the problems of aging, I took the truck in today for annual state inspection, and it cost me about $600 to buy it back. New front rotors, new linings, rear cylinders, and some other stuff. No more than I drive the thing, that $600 is a bigger dent in my wallet than paying $1 extra for gasoline for a whole year.

I've never really cared much for cars. I kinda envied Kevin, who got a cherry '56 T-bird as a 16th birthday present, and Jim, who got a 2-year old Tempest on his 16th birthday, from money he'd earned as a carry-out boy. But like most farm boys in the 1960s, I drove the family flivver whenever Mom or Dad needed something from town, and rode the school bus - or in my case, rode a bicycle to school because I had a part time job every afternoon. It's not fun when the roads are icy, when it's sleeting, or when there's a 35 MPH headwind, and the job had been especially tiring. At 19, I had to pay $200 for an old white Galaxy 500 - my brother called it the "bubblemobile" because it had bad valves or something and made a plop, plop, plop sound on deceleration - because I got a job in the next county, but I sorely resented the expense. It was kind've a fun car, though, in a declasse way. (Hope I'm using that term correctly.)

Over the years, I've never had a new car, and I've never sold a used one, except to the junkyard. I've driven the wheels off them all, once literally. (It's, uh, interesting to be taking a gentle curve to the right and see your left rear wheel go past, right before you float gently into the flat grassy ditch on the outside of the curve.)

But four years ago, I bought a white minivan that had about 50,000 miles, and it's a nice car. When I try to get into the passenger seat of my wife's sedan, she has to get out, so I can lean way over to my left, into her seat. Then I can grab my pants leg and pull my gimpy right leg into the car. Once I straighten up, then I have to fight to get everything rearranged that I can belt up. It's a real mitzvah for someone to give me a ride when it's raining. And that's a fairly big car. With the minivan, though, I can just plop myself on the seat, buckle up, and go.

And it's a stylish van. Neons were cute when they were new, and so were PT Cruisers, but that wore off. My minivan looks fresh and new and with white wheels instead of chrome, exceptionally appealing to my eye, and really, the driver's opinion is the only one that really matters, isn't it? I mean, there are probably people driving Azteks and Scions who don't realize that their cars are downright hideous. And if they are happy with their cars, more power to them.

But anyway, I was feeling a toothachy-pain in my right hip, right where my suddenly-slimmer wallet fits, and I decided to get the car washed. Washing any other car makes it look better, but the results are even more spectacular with white cars for some reason. Made it to Triangle at 5:59, and they close at 6:00. I gave the kid a $2 tip on a $5 wash, and asked him to give the wheels an extra-good scrub. And you know, just a shower can revive your spirits after a long tiring day, a carwash can revive your spirits after a painful extraction of plastic from your wallet by the neighborhood garage. (And Bob, if you are reading this, I'm NOT complaining about value received. You do good work and charge VERY competitive prices. It's just that I'm a cheap, uh, fellow. Yeah, that's the ticket. No need to insult my mother. A cheap fellow.)

So anyhow, the radio is on, and they're playing "Ba-ba-ba Barbara Ann" and I'm cruising down Columbia with the windows open, and I'm feeling good, and all of a sudden, I realize that there are good-looking women standing along the road every half-block or so, and as I approach, they each look at me with a really big smile, and wave. Now, I'm a damnably handsome fellow, in a studly Santaesque way, and I'm in a striking white minivan, gleeming from a fresh car wash, and there's "I'll give it a 92, Dick, you can dance to it" music coming gently out the windows, so I would expect this kind of treatment from women who are grownups, you know 45 or older, or at least 35, but these women that are giving me the big smiles and the big waves, at least half of them are in the 18 to 25 age group.

And they were so mesmerized by me that they got aboard the bus that was following me. After several blocks, I turned in order to escapt these stalkers, though. It's fun to tease and be teased, but Blondie tells me I'm not available, and I'll take her word on that.

Anyhow, I know this story is a bit long-winded, but for your birthday, I wish you a fresh carwash (preferably without a $600 garage bill), great music on the radio, and weather that allows open windows, and a city bus following you just as people are getting off work, so that you may come to realize that you are as physically beautiful in person as you are online.

She thought her e-mail chain letters were harmless fun until she ended up Fw:Fw:Fw:Fw:Fw:Fw:Fw:iendless

Barbara, I hope it was great and I wish you many, many more!

mike

I think you'd be a winner and this is one you don't need to look up on Google. Ever thought of giving it a try?

mike

Are my posts *that* bad, Mike?

She thought her e-mail chain letters were harmless fun until she ended up Fw:Fw:Fw:Fw:Fw:Fw:Fw:iendless

Thanks everyone! for the birthday wishes. It was a great time. My sister mary's is the 17th (11 yrs younger...sigh!) and we spent both days together. Paul I am surprised you mentioned the song Ba-Ba-Barbara Ann.. My grandfather in all his English wisdom named me Barbara Ellen.. after the song Barbara Allen(Alan?). I have never heard it but would really like to. He named all the grandchildren.. but i think my brother just younger than me got the worst of the nicknames... called him Joey, after Joe E. Brown. For the younger crowd, Mr. Brown was one of the great comics of his day and his mouth covered his face (really big!). He used it as a comic subject in his acts. Of course as with all nicknames given that young my brother outgrew it by the age of two although it has stayed with him all these years. I can definitely relate to the van. I bought a lumina mini when they first came out in '90, everyone called it the shuttle. My one and only car that i picked out and bought. It doesnt run any more but is still in the drive with hope written on it..lol It is the blue w/red stripe not that wonderful white. Until then i had a 1977 crysler new yorker brougham, it went on to become a race car, at least the 440-4 barrel engine did. Did i love that car! (got it in the divorce) And I was lucky enough to have two of the best "car wash" days. I hope everyone's birthdays are as good.

Thanks again... Barbara

Lioness