There comes a time in the lives of many living in Active Adult communities when the husband approaches his wife with the following observation:
āHoney, Iāve been thinking about this and I donāt see why we need two cars. We can easily share your car and sell mine. That way we can save on maintenance, gas and insurance and have extra money to go out for dinner.ā
Any woman who has ever shared a bathroom with a man knows why this can never come to pass. Itās completely against the laws of nature.
My own car contains two items, a box of decorative Kleenex in a color that most closely resembles the carās interior, and an umbrella. The interior fragrance is just a hint of Chanel #5.
As for the interior of my husbandās car, well, enter at your own risk. Truly this vehicle could easily appear on the reality show “Hoarders,” and, with someone inside, “Buried Alive.” I suggest, at the very least, wearing a hazmat suit.
If you are intending on sitting in the passengerās seat and are in need of a snack, youāve come to the right place. After youāve cleared away the numerous book-on-tape discs, papers, mail, and assorted coffee cups with the cream curdling at the bottom, a hungry person can find sustenance. This would include an open and half-consumed bag of potato chips left over from the July Hot Dog Thursday and a warm can of Coke complete with a mummified bee resting on the lid. The interior fragrance, well letās just call it Eau de Locker Room.
Unless you are planning on crouching on the floor of the backseat, try and arrange for someone else to pick you up for a Fun Friday. This is because there is no available seating space.
I have personally observed at least two tennis rackets, several pickle ball paddles, numerous balls of every size and color, wet towels, sweat bands, water bottles, shirts, shoes, boxes, jackets, a golf umbrella and clubs, tools, assorted garage sale items, numerous broken computers and an occasional couple of stiff French fries.
And this is just in the front seat. Whenever I spot French fries in his car, I think of the time my husband wanted to clean the interior of the carās windows and used my bottle of malt vinegar. For weeks afterwards, I had the most compelling desire for Coney Island fries.
I once spotted an item I thought was a bug zapper which turned out to be a floor speaker for āwhen Iām working in the garage and need music.ā Oh pleeeze!
I see no way to solve this sticky (literally) situation other than to get the bicycle down, pump up its tires and use a little malt vinegar to polish up the seat. Iām not completely heartless; I want him to feel at home. A nice warm stocking cap, bear hunting gloves and a heavy winter coat should be just what heāll need for the short jaunt down to the lodge for Computer Users Group.
Iāll be in “ourā sedan with the seat warmers, CD player, coordinated Kleenex box and umbrella. Heāll have to go through airport screening if he wants driving privileges!
