I have long been fascinated by people who put messages in the back windows of their trucks with press on letters that I assume they purchase at Auto Zone.
Wait. Rewind. In deference to my friend, Mr. Alpha Male, who has been known to say of me, "She speaks in superlatives. The sooner you know that about her, the more chance you'll have of understanding what she actually means," let me correct myself.
Fascinated is too strong a word; interested is too strong a word. It's fairer to say I've noticed these bits of wisdom on wheels and wondered about them.
I've been on two short road trips two weekends in a row. Last weekend on the way to visit friends in Georgia, The Guy, Oldest Friend, and I got caught up in the Talladega 500 traffic. It wasn't all that pleasant. We were all pretty disgruntled when Oldest Friend spotted a truck up ahead with "Wild Bill and Crazy Cathy" in the window. In retrospect, it wasn't all that funny but, at the time, you'd have thought Chris Rock had visited our car to do a private stand up routine for the three of us. Remember—race weekend traffic. Times were hard.
But after we calmed down, I got to wondering about Bill and Cathy. Are they a radio morning team? Did they choose these names for themselves and, if so, how much time did they put into it? Or is Bill, in fact, wild, in the sense that he was raised by wolves? If that is the case, why is he allowed to drive a truck? How did he develop marketable skills to earn money with which to buy it? And is Cathy truly sadly crazy, as in delusional? If so, why would anyone be so mean as to put that on a truck window? Or does she just get a little crazy on the dance floor? Either way, it takes both of them to equal a late seventies Saturday Night Live Steve Martin.
This past weekend, The Guy, Plotter, and I were returning from Knoxville, when The Guy started reading: "To Baby Girl. In Memory of my Precious Sister". This message was printed in gold rimmed maroon letters that matched the truck. It looked so good I'm not sure a professional sign painter didn’t do it, which would stand to reason. Surely, if someone felt led to memorialize a departed loved one on a truck window, an expert would have to be called.
But why? Did the truck originally belong to her? Or was it bought with money from a lawsuit over her accidental death? Was he driving an old unsafe vehicle before she extracted a deathbed promise from him to buy something new? I went on and on about this until I am sure The Guy and Plotter wanted to sedate me.
I finally said, "I'm blogging about this Tuesday."
"Why?" Plotter asked.
"I don't know," I told her. "I just have to."
Maybe that's the answer to messages in truck windows: Sometimes you just have to.
Ever done anything because you just had to?
Yes I did, thirty three years ago. I worked at Opryland as a sidewalk sweeper ( you may not remember being so young and all but we kept the sidewalks spotless and gave directions to park visitors - hey it paid for eating while I was in college!). Anyway, it was pouring rain and I looked like a drowned rat when I saw a park ranger coming out of a gift shop as dry as a bone. My friend and I were clearing a bridge of standing water with a big squeegee. Needless to say I had to spray the water on the ranger, just had to, couldn't stand it that he was dry and I was soaked to my underwear. He wrote us up for it - a ticket for my measly paycheck cost me a lot. I hated him for an entire month then he asked me out. Well, three years later I married him. So having to get him wet was probably one of the best things I ever did!
ReplyDeleteOh, Cheryl, that's so romantic in a wet kind of way! I hope you have extracted the cost of that ticket from him many times over.
ReplyDeleteI miss Opryland. I loved it. The day they announced it was closing, Oldest Friend called and said, "I've got some good news and some bad news. There's a big shopping mall coming to Nashville but it's over for you and the Grizzly River Rampage." And now it looks like it's over for RWA and the Opryland Hotel--at least this year.
Why do you think I don't work? He's more than paid for that ticket. Seriously, if I hadn't had the compulsion I wouldn't have met him. So tell Plotster there's a lot to be said for having to do something.
ReplyDeleteHa ha-- very fun! Great observations.
ReplyDeleteI do a lot of things just because I have to and the results are always interesting!
Christine--You a free spirit? Say it ain't so!
ReplyDeleteI have to ignore the question. Sorry I missed the professionally painted "In memory of" car window. You didn't add that Wild and Crazy was written in something that looked like Cathy's red lipstick. Sometimes you just gotta use what is handy.
ReplyDelete@Cheryl - I promise you that Pantster remembers every.single.detail. about what went on at Opryland. She would have moved in if they had given her a place to live. Surprised she didn't befriend Roy Acuff so she could live with him.
Let us not forget Roy A. Cub, the 5 foot tall bear I won tossing rings at Opryland. Ah, those were the days. I had such success there. I might not have found my husband, Cheryl did, but winning a bear is no small thing.
ReplyDelete