Sharon’s first car had been a ’73 Mustang. After a few tears, she confessed she’d sold it this past weekend. We won’t go into her other confessionals about that car. It had a blown head gasket, and her husband wasn’t going to get around to getting it fixed like he’d promised years before. My first car had been a blue ’71 Camaro, sleek enough to be named the Blue Maxie with the Classy Chassis. When I stood near the door, no one noticed the missing side mirror.
Blue Maxie with the Classy Chassis
Time to move on. Standing on the driveway, I could tell the whole frame had shifted a little after a few of life’s little accidents. It had lost its luster. The leather is worn and wrinkled looking. The headlights are dim. The radiator has a small leak. It’s cold in the morning, with coughing and sputtering. No gusto like it used to have. The hinges make creaky noises. The spare tire looks soft and flabby.
Yep, I thought, as I looked in the sheen of the shiny car in front of me, “My body ain’t what it used to be.” Just one birthday last week, and it all changed overnight. Last evening I made close friends with the heating pad. I must have run out of warranty.
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Good one. Easy to relate to. Just this Christmas Kay asked for a heating pad for Christmas. And I noticed in late November . . right around my birthday, a distinct decline in my audibility ability. (if the increase in the volume numbers on the TV set means anything.)
Did you forget to purchase the extended warranty???