Top-down Days

Rebuilt transmission: $4,300. Tangling with a guard rail three days later: totaled. Five years with Audi A4 convertible: priceless.

Yeah, totaled. I bet the check hadn't cleared the bank for the rebuild, which seemed like the best thing to do a week ago: Rebuild a clunky transmission and drive the car "till the wheels fall off."

Well, that was easy. Ask that guard rail just the other side of Appomattox on U.S. Route 460. My choices were 1) hit the guard rail head on or 2) slide into it sideways. Danica Patrick might have pulled it out. Me? Not so much, though I almost made it. In the parlance of Southwest Virginia, the guard rail "just caught my tail feathers."

First, I need to say there are dozens of helpful people traveling the highway in Appomattox County "right near Evergreen," as they told me. One found a wrecker faster than I could get AAA on the phone; another told me what garage would store it for free before the insurance company decided what to do. And the gentleman at the garage kept my mind off my mess with stories of his great grandfather in the Civil War. (I did say I was in Appomattox.)

Second, there is humor in the universe. A wonderful sign on the front of the garage declares "Phelps Towing & Monuments." There's nothing inherently funny about two businesses sharing a space and, as I learned from Mr. Phelps, family working together. When you think about it, it's good business to have two fairly recession-proof enterprises under one roof. Laughing soothed my nerves a bit.

My husband jettisoned his trip to Florida (where he might have escaped the coming snowstorm) and retrieved me. We cleaned out the car (Note to self: never expose your husband to what's really in your car. But I swear, there is a reason for the flute, the baby wipes and the "Quick Crafts from Lace" book.)

To this point I was pretty calm. OK, I was pretty perturbed. (The receipt of the transmission was still lying on the front seat of the car. No, I guess it was on the floor with my purse, computer, spare change, etc.) When I turned and took a last look at my car, the tears came.  It wasn't a car it was independence day. (The only other time I cried about selling a car it was "Crunch, my '69 LTD from high school, and I blamed the tears on being pregnant.)

On the lot - almost mine

In 2008 I needed a new car and got the idea in my head that I needed a convertible. I looked at dozens, but I didn't want something that screamed "midlife crisis." Whispered might be OK. That's what I found in a 2005 Audi A4 convertible. Got at it at a fire-sale price during an end-of-the-month, holiday weekend sale. I could never have afforded it new.

For the first time I bought a car without checking to see how a car seat would fit and how many kids could ride in it at once. I swear it was a coincidence I bought it within a month of making my last child support payment.

Nothing was better than what I called "top-down days." With the sun shining and the temperature at 50 degrees or more I was set. My best friend and I cranked up the heat, maxed out the seat heaters and cruised the parkway on my birthday in January 2009.

"Top-down Day"

A couple of years ago, I took my cousin's daughters cruising: top down, sunglasses and pink hats, getting waves from everyone we passed. It was at a time when they needed (and I wanted) some fun and their mom and dad got some "couple time."

A couple of years ago I drove home from Culpeper in February with the top down. Daddy and I drove up the Eastern Shore to Chicoteague in May a couple of years ago - THE perfect time for owning a convertible.

I even caught up with an old friend once when he pulled up beside me at a light and saw me in the car with the top down.

In fact, I had the top down at least once a month -- including winter months -- except for twice while I owned it. December 2009 and last month (January) was one of the two -- because it needed a new transmission. For those who know how I procrastinate,  I will never know why jumped right on fixing the transmission.

There were a lot top-down days in five-and-a-half years. Maybe is is time for a sensible car, but not yet. I still hear whispering.

What I learned at the zoo

It wasn't actually a zoo, although any gathering of writers can resemble a zoo. At the Seventh Annual Roanoke Regional Writers Conference held last weekend (Jan 23-24, 2014) at Hollins University, Everyone was talking or listening or both at the same time. Writers we've heard of nationally - Sherry Reynolds , Roland Lazenby - or locally - Dan Smith and Dan Casey - and many we haven't but are likely to shortly.

As usual the topics were varied. I dipped my toe in some topics I've heard, read or performed in the past and jumped wholeheartedly into some things I hadn't. Social media promotions and the increase of digital publishing were the hot topics. Here's a little of what I heard:

• Sometime you laugh at the funeral home. Sherry Reynolds told a bittersweet story of the loss of a grandmother (sadly, only a month ago). She talked about how the relationship between her and her sister confirmed that characters should - and do - reveal themselves through the stories.
• Alice de Sturler, who was recently recognized by the American Bar Association for her blog focused on solving cold cases, offered so many great tips on blogging I could barely take notes fast enough. She included tips on guest blogs, blog tours, organizing blogs and secrets leveraging your comments sections. 
• "You can't tell be what to think, but you can them what to think about, according to well-published author Roland Lazenby, whose book "Michael Jordon: A Life" will hit the stores in May. Lazenby talked about pitching non-fiction stories by looking at the news their publication will generate. Gone are the days of intense publicity supplied by publishers; books have to make news now to sell.
• Engaging like-minded people helped Brooke McGlothlin establish an information community targeting "Mothers of Boys." (As the mother of two grown boys I chuckled at the website name: The MOB Society.) She gave great advice for developing an online business by using all channels of communication, from digital newsletters, printing, email blasts and freelance writers to build the community

A spirited panel debate on traditional, self- and digital publishing closed out the day for the more than  speakers and 75 participants.

As any of the participants would attest, writing is not easy. Sometimes it feels like a calling, sometimes it feels like a curse. That's exactly why those of us who do it can't not write. 

Victoria's new secret

My first thought when I heard Al Qaeda has a new "more sophisticated" underwear bomb: What,they shop Victoria's Secret, now? Then I realized a Victoria's Secret bra and panties set would hold hardly enough explosives to light a cigarette. Forget bringing down an airliner.

So maybe it was Fruit of the Loom? A little better, but look at those guys in the ads - but let's face it, that giant apple and all those grapes are not going to make it through airport security ("No food, sir") much less fit their hats in the overhead compartment. And the major issue would be what to do with all the fruit salad afterwards.

Maybe a union suit. (Young people: one-piece underwear, usually red, back door flap)A little better, but if you have ever worn one (yes, I have. long story for another post) you know union suits are in no way considered "sophisticated." Complicated, yes; sophisticated, no.

That leaves, what? Boxers or briefs, I suppose. Perhaps it was this long-standing conundrum that allowed National Security ample time ferret out the plot.

Balance in the Universe

Crossing the street on my walk (from my car)to work this morning I noticed yet another balance in the universe: For every nice First Driver willing to slow down at the crosswalk and let you cross two of the four lanes on Wells Avenue, there is an equal and opposite drive in the other lane speeding up to cross the intersection. I feel like an idiot standing there not responding to first guys generosity because of clueless Second Drive who will RUN ME OVER!
Here's a suggestion: if you are nice enough to let me cross, make sure no one is speeding by in the next lane. We will balance the universe with me waving in acknowledgement of your kindness and you can know you've still done the nice polite small-southern-town gesture.

Seasons Greetings?

Pepper spray to get ... a video game? A bloodied grandfather trying to protect his grandson from being trampled but instead, arrested for shoplifting. (Never mind the question of what he was thinking bringing a preschooler to such a crazy environment.) Who would have thought the geriatric friendly Walmart greeter could morph into a pepper spray- armed riot control combatant? These are not even the questions we should be asking, although they are the first to mind. The same media organizations that profit (greatly) from the advertising creating such melees cover the "news" they have had a hand in creating. What important topics aren't covered, crowded out by photos and gory details of consumerism run amok? Apparently the death of a security man in 2008 taught us something? And even these are not the real questions. What has happened to our society that values mere "stuff" so much that we risk life and limb of not just ourselves but others. I can think of nothing in any store I want or need that would be worth a parking lot robbery, harming my grandchild or pepper spraying the competition -- known on any other day as my friend or neighbor. Can't you just hear the joyful exclamations under the shining tree on Christmas morning... "Mom, I'm so glad you knocked down that nice lady and punched someone's uncle to get me this....what is this anyway?" Most shocking is those who look forward to the chaos. This year I heard more than person say how much fun Black-Friday shopping is, the excitement, the Christmas spirit? What?! But honestly, what can we do? Not participate in black Friday-turned-blacker-thursday night, for one. I don't think for a moment that idea will catch on. What we can do is stop enjoying it.

eye of the beholder

This morning on Wise Avenue I spotted a young woman in a black burka, a bit of a surprise in our homogeneous yellow-cake of a city. But it's an eclectic neighborhood so a new flavor of citizen icing isn't totally out of the realm of possibility. "Wow" I thought, "it must be interesting to live in Roanoke as a very conservative Muslim." and then, "She's going to get in hot in that today."

As I neared the person I realized it wasn't a burka or a girl. It was a young man in what is a some iteration of "goth": large wide-legged, drag-the-floor black pants resembling a flowing skirt and a black sweatshirt hoodie, pulled way below his eyes. "How juvenile" I thought. Followed by "He's going to get hot in that today."

So I ask myself, if the look is the same - and either would end up uncomfortable in today's heat -- how can I assume they are different people inside. One I almost pity for what I assume would be a difficult life thrust upon here; the other I feel aggravation at for setting himself up for trouble by resisting conformity.

How can I know whether the look of the person standing at the bus stop is a measures of how he or she stands in his or her heart? Burka, scarf, cross, Star of David, big hair, funny hat. There is little I can truly know about a person until I actually KNOW the person. Except that "It's going to be hot today."

-30-

of mice and men

Robert Burns said it best: "the best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley" (oft go awry.) I started this blog with good intentions. I have much to say. Even so, having something to say - especially things or great insight or merit (which I don't necessarily claim) are of now value - even as entertainment if they are not actually said. So I will start again, remembering this is not Small Talk 1.0 where a good 250-500 words were needed (not necessarily to be complete but to fill the available space.)
So today I start Small Talk 2.0 because I have things to say