"I'll wake you up early...and blow you..."

..she said brightly. "I'm already late for church." She added, by way of explaination without a trace of irony. I am SO looking forward to spurting onto her Sunday-go-to-meeting hair-do. (Is that wrong?)

Digging into a box I had brought in last night she came up with a pair of medium heeled, pointy toed, black sling backs.

"How are these?" she asked as I pondered the mix of shoes in the box, hers, his and 'hirs'..

"Great!" I pronounced, "but, a little slutty for _________" (her hometown, population probably less than 3,000)

"Thats the idea," she smiled, "someone's got to bring this town into the 21st century, and they aren't quite stripper shoes yet."

I am pretty tired. (I am always pretty tired.)

I bummed a ride back to home #1 last Thursday morning after night shift. I slept a while then surveyed my transportation situation. So far I had two cars at home #2 and the object is to get all 8-9 1/2 cars there eventually. I had selected the mid 60's wagon and matching bug for this run.

I had packed my work bag with the title in case I left straight from work. Instead I went home for a quick shower and a couple of interrupted 1/2 hour naps. *And no, not that kind of interruption."

As I groggily stumbled to the door when my ride showed up, she suggested I take a cooler rather than the soft side multi-pocket work bag cum lunch bucket. Partway to my destination I remember the title.

NO worries I think $8 for an lost title fee is cheaper than gas to go back. I get to house #1 and sleep a while after making vague inquiries into the schedules of the now 4 late teen slackers living in my house. (The plan is to charge them some rent if I ever actually get the house emptied out.)

The one whose work / sleep schedule seems compatible with my plans seemed a good prospect for a ride to the motor vehicle division. Turns out he slept in, then left abruptly. Not wanting to impose on my renters (read squatters), I called a buddy I havent seen in nearly a year to come pick me up.

First trip, they look up my name and of the 6 cars they have a record of, Big Buford as I like to call him isnt on the list. I call my wife for the VIN to see if it was missfiled. She has left our little turn of the century farmhouse for the big city. I am short with her, thinking she was expending gas for yet another trip just 2 days after her last one. I was rather rude and abrupt and had to apologise, (poorly) later.

Second trip with a rubbing of the VIN plate in hand, I hear over the loudspeakers that titles cannot be printed because the "computers are down." No eta for recovery. Nice.

They were able to look up Vin's though and all that told us was that the car has been purged from the system. They say I need an abandoned title. (I explain I HAVE a hard copy of the title just not with me.)

I send my wife 30 minutes north to a medium sized town with an MVD office. She gets there just under the wire before closing time. Computers still down. Redundancy anyone????"

In frustration I resolve to flaut the law. (the last time I got caught doing that it spiraled into a $3,000 incident and loss of license for what turned out to be 4 years plus. I don't care.

I go home frustrated and still exhausted from lack of sleep and sleep fitfully till the next day. I then go about getting mobile. None of the cars around the place are ready to go, so I load up three batteries and one flat tire (my compressor is down, and my tools to fix it are at house #2 along wit my battery charger) onto a garden cart and walk 3/4 of a mile to get the battery charged and the tire aired up. I then walk home, take another nap. I get up go back and find I have to buy a new battery anyway.

I get the spanking new battery installed (crossing the polarity in the process, big oops!) NOTHING. in frustration I call my wife to come get me (4 hour drive each way.) Son points out it ran the other day when he put a different battery in it,. So I borrow the battery that did take a charge and sure enough she runs! I go back to the store where they puzzle over a brand new battery putting out .3 volts untill they notice neither I nor they in testing it have removed the protective plastic terminal cover. OOPS! ~chagrined~ I call back. "Never mind get the kids back out of the van...."

SO I pack the wagon and the bug separately, go to the hardware store get bolts to secure the tow bar, to the airport (past stern "Authorized Personnel Only" - without a valid license plate). I must have looked like an authorized individual because no one says boo to me as I glide up in my very much land-bound jumbo-liner and fill up on 100 octane low lead avgas. She purred in appreciation. Incidentally, on the way back home I pulled a light next to a brand new dodge, so called Hemi charger. (Not the legendary 426 Hemi of course.) They held on with me for 1st gear, only because I have highway gears in the differential. I smoked them after that in a cloud of blue smoke, unburned avgas spitting flames out the factory dual exhaust. -Note to self- Pick up some 4.11 gears and a roots blower.

SO anyway, packed and ready to go, I go to mate the two vehicles only to discover that Buford has no ball in his receiver hitch. Off to Mart du Wahl and lucky thing its a standard receiver and all is well again.

I roar off into the night at just before midnight on a heavy enforcement DUI weekend. Including State, Counties various cities and towns, and tribal entities I calculate that I will pass through the jurisdictions of over 20 law enforcement divisions. In the past year I have been pulled over for one thing or another at least 8 times. The score there is two tickets, numerous warnings and repair orders and one chase that I won near the border.

I breathe in and rub into my eyes fiberglass from the missing headliner. This doesn't help visibility. It starts to rain. My power windows are currently down and disconnected. My wipers...hmm...yep work, nope blades are bad...oops they won't turn off now that I hit a dry patch....stop cut the wire.

I run out of gas on the reservation. I siphon a gallon out of the bug..I run out again. I siphon the last 1/3 of a gallon out of the bug, make it to a gas station.

I stagger into home #2 at a little after 4:00am and shower. I attempt to fumble into bed without waking the Fellatio Artist, only to find a child in the bed. I evict said child and fall asleep clutching a couch pillow as I left my pillow at house #1...

All in all a lot of work for some boxes better left in a house fire, except the several dozen pairs of kinky shoes.