Thursday, October 4, 2012

For a good time call Wanda

Everyday that I get in my car is a crap shoot.

I worry all the while when this wonderful, nay, this amazing piece of machinery I own gets me from point A to point B.  Her name is Wanda.  Wanda is a 2004 Grand Caravan, a more temperamental 8 year old you'll never find.  Wanda has gotten us from the most rural areas in Vermont to Central Florida and out to Oklahoma.
The crap shoot part is when you realize that Wanda is nearing the 200,000 miles mark. You never know if you are going to actually make it to point B or if you will need a tow truck at point A 1/2.

She shimmies in a way that makes you want to throw dollar bills at her cup holder. She squeals , shakes, and groans causing one to blush because she seems to be having a better time than you at prom.
Not only that, but I should add that my driving, (there are no witnesses) leaves something to be desired because of my inability to follow street directions. So Wanda and I will wander aimlessly through unknown areas in the city looking for the corner store to which I have already been countless times when I have my daughter, the human compass, in the car with me.
When I'm alone guess who I call, My Love.

Me " you were right , that street does go both ways"
My Love " where were you going"
Me "the supermarket "
My Love " it's at the end of the block, where are you ?"
Me " I lost track a couple of miles ago"
My Love " I'll forward your mail"

Point A to B, MY WAY


  1. You truly must be a handful at times, Maria. That's good, keeps them guessing!

    1. Handful...maybe. I know I always wonder what will happen next too .