Today I intend to wipe that lipstick smile off the face of the car I'm currently driving--the car my son wrested with difficulty from the grasp of Tropical Storm Fay--while hoping my son manages to keep my car out of the path of Hurricane Ike. And I suppose it would be nice if he avoided the storm too.
Of course I am more concerned about my son than about my car, but today I've got cars on the brain. Maybe I ought to post a "No Parking" sign on my cerebellum.
When last we visited the car issue, my son had arrived home from his lengthy encounter with Tropical Storm Fay just in time to pack up his things and leave for Texas the next day, except the title office, oddly enough, isn't open at midnight on Saturday so he couldn't get his new (used) car titled or get a permanent tag on it before he left, so he took my car to Texas and left me with a car carrying a temporary tag made of a chunk cut from a grocery bag with numbers written on it in lipstick. (Read about it here.) I soon discovered that I could not transfer the title or get a permanent license plate until my son signed a power of attorney, which I promptly mailed to him and which he signed, notarized, and sent back in such a timely fashion that it arrived only yesterday. The temporary tag expires on Monday. Fortunately, the title office is open from 8 to 2 on Saturday, so I'm all set to go.
Meanwhile, the kid has been using my car at his college, which sits directly in the path of Ike. Apparently, tropical storms find my son irresistible; he's everywhere they want to be. Ike will certainly lose strength by the time it gets that far inland, but the storm will still be packing high winds and plenty of rain. I have to trust the college to know how to keep its students out of danger, but still, I'm monitoring the storm from a distance and sending powerful mind rays intended to steer it away from my son. And my car.
Let's not forget that I managed to drive that car for only about a month this summer before it was whisked away to Texas, and at some point I would like to get reacquainted with my little mermaid-blue baby. Right now it's sitting in Texas pulling Ike ever closer while I'm sitting at home trying to influence Ike to go the other way. In the battle of wills between mom and hurricane, who will win? Who will lose? Who will sell popcorn and peanuts to the fans in the stands?
And, more importantly, where will they all park?
1 comment:
Moms will always win. But just in case, I hope you've got good insurance coverage on the mermaid.
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