Drivin’ Over Fifty Eighty

I think my favorite Car Talk segment ever is when a guy called in and told a story about a venerable old tank-like vee-hickle that veered off the road, crossed the median, and went into the ditch on the other side. All by itself! After they all got done laughing, he came clean and said, “Of course, it isn’t really the car that does that. It’s my *mother*.” In that tone of voice that people about my age sometimes use when talking about their elderly parents. I’ll leave that to the imagination. 😈 He then proceeded to plot and plan with the tappet brothers about how he could sabotage his mother’s vee-hickle so she would be unable to get it out of the garage.

And then there’s *my* octogenarian. In the middle of the latest report from The Great White North, sandwiched in amongst a running commentary of the week’s activities, which was interrupted by any number of MacMullan Blindsides, was this little tidbit: “I switched the Traf from four-wheel drive back to two-wheel.” As you might guess by the name Traf, the vee-hickle in question is hardly tank-like and venerable doesn’t quite seem like the right adjective either. But it is definitely old, purchased sometime in the mid-1990s or so. I’d be surprised if it had more than about 30,000 miles on it. If I remember accurately, switching it back and forth between four and two-wheel drive involves getting out of the car and doing something or other to the wheels. It was always Grandroobly’s job and he handled it quite deliberately but not without a few words from another language.

As the sole owner of two automobiles, The Commander has learned a lot about mechanical beasts in the last year, including how to pump your own gas, another of Grandroobly’s former jobs. He carried cash around for just that purpose, steadfastly refusing to go anywhere near anything that resembled a computer. I doubt that The Commander will be planning any solo road trips across the country any time soon, but at least her vee-hickles do not cross medians and go into ditches and she is not making up her own traffic rules. Knock on wood. So all I’ve got to say is “You Go, Girl!”

And now that she knows how to post a comment, maybe I will find out if I am in trouble or not! 😈

3 Responses to “Drivin’ Over Fifty Eighty”

  1. Webmomster Says:

    The Commander *really does* love the Traf!! I was the only one during those several days we were there to actually *start* the Taurus…and that was only to move it within the confines of the driveway to clear snowdrifts and compacted snow/ice about 4 inches thick from around it.

    And, no, I did NOT even think to check the Odo on the Taurus (yeah, I know…Someone Else would have done that, and even remembered for the next visit for comparisons…) 😉

  2. kayak woman Says:

    Yeah, mon. And Ol’ Dreadlocks would probably also know *exactly* what year the dern thing was purchased too. Not to mention where each engine part was located and where it used to be two or three years ago and whether it mattered or not that it was moved. Laughing out loud. Hope yer hearin’ me, bro’!

  3. Webmomster Says:

    I can picture it now… hood open, a butt & pair of legs the only human part visible (no telling if there’s dreadlocks – the head’s deep in the engine compartment!)