Sunday, October 23, 2005

THE ASSFIRE DA DA DA DA DA

THE ASSFIRE-In my continuing bad car(ma) saga, I borrowed a 1994 Ford Aspire(the roaches needed the whitish chevy for the night) which my friend Mike, who loaned me the car, calls the Assfire. It is a pleasant shade of blue, gets pretty good gas mileage and really did belong to Mike's grandmother, who only used it to buy cigarettes and lottery tickets. The rest of the time, she parked it under some bushes(it's that small). It had rested under those shrubs for nearly 6 months before I began to use it. During that time, somehow the car's hatchback had filled up with dead leaves. Consequently, I thought it would be nice to clean it out. After all, the pizza store's customers would probably frown on extra pine needles and dead leaves on their pies. To accomplish the cleaning, I opened up the doors and hatchback and once again, fired up my 240 MPHBHSNPLB(see Milwaukee Poop and Redbugshttp://jobesnotjobs.blogspot.com/2005/08/redbugs-and-milwaukee-poop-several.html) and pointed it in the Assfire's general direction. In the blink of an eye, the skies over the Assfire, the house and neighborhood were filled with flying leaves and old lottery tickets.
With leaves and lotteries removed, I headed off to work as DPG. This particular evening, like most around here in August, included mid 90's temps and a light, early evening shower(see monsoon). This weather would be fine if my current vehicle had working A/C, windshield wipers and/or headlights, that when turned on, were brighter(even on high beam) than your average glow stick, due to the fact that the lenses appeared to be in advanced stages of glaucoma. To top it off, the first time I drove this car home, the exhaust pipe fell off as soon as I entered our subdivision and dragged, sparking behind the car all the way to our house. "Lookie there Goober. Looks like them Digresses got theirselves a new car." Now, the Assfire is not only the size of a motorcycle, it sounds like a cheap Harley. In a subdivision that looks like it's overflow parking for Lexus, BMW and Mercedes dealers, we continue to make fast friends of our neighbors.
GET YOUR MOTOR RUNNING DAH DAH DAH DAH, DAH.... OK, so the police are on their way to arrest me as a motorcycle gang....Oh, did I leave something out? My last run of the night was in sector W15, which is in the westernmost section of our store's territory. I know the territory well enough now that I don't have to write down many, if any, directions but this run was in an area I had not been before. So I wrote copious directions on the receipt, grabbed my pizza bag and headed out. Just as I stepped out of the restaurant door, the skies opened, as well as the door and the rain poured down. Did I mention that the Assfire didn't have windshield wipers, at least working ones. So I'm driving down the road headed due west with my left arm and a wad of paper towels out the window, wiping the windshield. Actually, I had to take turns wiping the outside then the inside. Did I mention that I didn't have A/C(and that it was 94 degrees)? To attempt to remedy the rain on the outside and fogging on the inside I opted to open both driver and passenger windows which seemed to cure that problem but obviously caused another...flooding. I also tried putting a insulated, cloth pizza bag over my head, to keep dry but that only worked until I breathed and then the little clear pannel would fog up. I drove to the desolate area that the map had indicated I would find the street and, after several passes, I saw the street sign on the ground, partially resting in a bush. I turned from the paved road onto a muddy dirt area that seemed to show promise as a potential road and began driving towards what appeared to be house lights. Out of the darkness suddenly loomed about 10 pieces of heavy equipment. The kind used to make roads. I had to zig in and out and between, wiping the windhield with my hand and continuing to make my way toward the house lights with my Harley sounding, barely-glowing delivery vehicle. After several attempts to get to the houses, I finally determined that I couldn't get there from here. There was a large ditch with rapidly running mud in between me and the lights. I turned around and zagged my way back to the paved road. It was then I spotted what appeared to be a roadway but I had to cut through a farmer's front yard to get to it. Once on this mudway, I putted along looking for addresses on mailboxes, when a large collie appeared. When I say large, he was actually looking at me at eye level and proceeded to trot along side, where ever I went, he went. Every time I would stop to try to get a glimpse of an address, he would stick his giant dog head inside the Assfire. I took the extra pizza bag that, I had tried unsuccessfully to wear on my head and push the collie's face back out of the car. All the while, multi tasking and attempting to call the pizza recipient on my cell to get clearer directions but each time, the line was busy. Finally, through the rain, fog, swarming mosquitos and dog face, I spotted what looked like it might be the house. I had to cut through another farmer's front yard to get there. I called again, as I sat in front of the house with the collie staring at me, eye to eye. All I could think of was, "Lassie, go get Timmy", but the dog just stared. Finally, I got through on the phone and an annoyed voice answered. "Mam, this is DPG trying to deliver your pizzas." "Yeeesss", she answered. "Do you have a blue SUV in the driveway?" "Yeess." "Do you also have a large dog ?" "Yeeess, Lucy", she said still sounding annoyed. "Then I believe I am in front of your house, would you care to come and get Lucy, Lassie whatever, so that I can get out of the car?" The front door opened and the lady stepped out and called Lucy to her side, still holding her phone. I handed her the pies, pocketed the money(including a whole dollar just for me) and thanked her, as her phone rang in her hand. "No Dad, it's not a motorcycle gang it's the pizza man.....I think he just has a noisy car. You didn't, Dad. Dad, don't do that anymore, please", and she hung up and looked at me. "My Dad, AKA The Sentinel, heard your car and saw you driving around and thought you were a bunch of motorcycle guys. " Does he live around here", I inquired? "He is the first house off the paved road. The way the roads are torn up,you had to get cut through his yard to get to our house. He is 84 and sits by his window and watches everything. He has the police on speed dial. " I jumped in my car, trying to beat the police so that I didn't have to stand around and answer questions about the expired tag on the car. I just wanted go home. As I drove away and turned onto the paved road, I wiped the steam and mosquitos off my rear view mirror but I could clearly see a police car zigging and zagging through a bunch of heavy equipment, lights flashing.

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