I am convinced that my house / car / belongings are nudists. Not me, mind you, but my stuff.
An example of why this is true:
I cannot keep a hubcap on my car.
I bought the car in 2001. It had 4 hubcaps. Slowly, it shed them as it hugged curbs, McDonald's drive thrus, you know... until the car clung to one hubcap. My mechanic made fun of it, it was mildly embarrasing / hilarious and I just let it be.
After some convincing, my brother made me buy new hubcaps at Target. I put them on (he helped). I was happy.
And then...
One by one, the hubcaps came flying off.
I bought more.
They flew off.
I let it be.
Before I moved back to Seattle, I decided I needed to spiff up the mobile. Afterall, it was rollin' back into the big city.
At that time, the car had one hubcap. I bought more. I put them on. I drove to Chicago to collect my brother. He graciously offered to drive with me out to Seattle with Daisy.
Props to The Fruits.
By the time I got to Chicago, I had one hubcap.
Great.
I tried to get the other hubcap off. It wouldn't come off.
A year later, I hit a curb. It fell off.
I let it be.
I think the hubcaps went to hubcap heaven... The Hubcap Capital of the World in Pearsonville, California. I think a roadtrip is in order...
This is Lucy, queen of The Hubcap Capital of the World. http://www1.iwvisp.com/hubcaps2/momhubcapgarden.JPG
1 comments:
HOLY SHIT! IT'S LUCY!
Do not, I repeat, DO NOT ever go to Pearsonville, CA. I broke down there once (riding with my Dad and younger brother) and it was like I had walked into The Hills Have Eyes.
"Burl" would work on our car for a minute before "Lucy" (who I never did see) would shriek at him to get in the house, then he would disappear only to return a few minutes later from a direction in which he had not departed. It took him about 90 minutes to do a 10 minute repair job and he refused to take money from my Dad, saying instead, "You best be going."
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