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March 26, 2009

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Aint that the truth (said the woman who is building a chicken coop and planting a victory garden).

That's just wrong, David. I am too stunned to think this through, but I know to the core of my being that this decision is just wrong. Drive it to Alaska, leave it in my yard for awhile. You'll come back to your senses.

I'm driving it to Cleveland and--if it makes it!--selling it to a dear family pal, who says I can have it back whenever I want it and who says he'll give it to Scout for her graduation present. Meantime, he'll use it as an "island car" at his house at Put-In Bay, in Lake Erie.

A pretty good solution, wouldn't you say?

And what I didn't say is I'm using the proceeds to buy a motorcycle to drive to Nova Scotia this summer.

All is not darkness, dear Joan Hope.

Wait a minute . . . . I thought you were selling the Scout so you could by a vintage Triumph motorcycle for your month-long ride across Canada with your friend Tom?????

I didn't know you were selling it because you needed the money, friend!! How much do you need? I'll have Cindy cut a check today, just as long as you don't sell part of your identity to avoid the bread line!!!

Steve C.

Ooops. Our comments passed in the ether.

Steve C.

I AM buying a motorcycle ... and I don't need the money.

I just don't need the money-sucking, disaster-promising, garage-hogging, daughter-endangering Scout right now.

Well, that's good . . . because I talked to Cindy and we don't have any money to give you anyway.

What are you going to do with the sign?

Steve C.

The "Murray's Freelance Writing" magnets? They're on the Volvo at the moment, but when I sell the Volvo, maybe I'll make a sandwich board out of it and wear it when I'm running errands and at the bar.

Okay, I'm reassured. The Scout will be in good hands, returnable, and you get another cool rig to ride on. Life is good again. But I'm still sad, because, despite the pops on the chin life's been dealing me lately, I do still plan to return to Chicago for a good visit--I feel like I've got a whole 'nother family down there now, with you and Bill and Steve and everybody. And another ride in the Scout was part of my fantasy vacation. Sigh. There's a rust-bucket of an old Scout carcass somewhere on the homestead where I live; maybe I'll have to nag my husband into digging that thing out of the devil's club and brambles and restoring it, just so I can alleviate my own Scout needs.

Thank you for understanding my horror, Davey! I feel better.

PS: Steve, you are a good boy. I know that somehow you'd have found money if David needed it, and getting to watch that kind of friendship act itself out warms me heart. I love you guys.

PPS: That stupid volcano is erupting YET AGAIN only this time it's headed our way, so I'm having to calm the panic (do we have to go home? will it wreck my computer? what do we do when the sky is falling on us?).... Like I have an answer! Who on earth thought it was a good idea to me ME the IT guru??? sheesh. I wish that idiotic mountain would keep its magma in its pants.

>>Meantime, he'll use it as an "island car" at his house at Put-In Bay, in Lake Erie.

A pretty good solution, wouldn't you say?<<

Cool and it brings an idea to mind....would said friend be willing to allow someone else to commandeer it (for an over-priced rental fee of course) if/when they next visit the "Key West of the North"? I'm sure it could be parked in front of the Round House or Beer Barrel Saloon probably with the keys left in it and it would be perfectly safe until the renter came to pick it up.

Come to think if it, given how much money is spent on golf cart and scooter rentals, there probably is a potentially lucrative market niche that is underserved there.

Craig

Craig, I thought this might catch your eye. The Scout's yours whenever you're up there. I'll tell write it into the contract.

I'll never forget riding with you in the Scout, as we drove along the Magnificent Mile in the middle of a snow squall, with the top down, as the Bloody Marys we'd had for lunch kicked in. At that moment we owned Chicago.

MY ride in the Scout was also eventful as we thought we were going to blow up at any moment from the worrisome smell that emanated from the chariot on our ride to dinner.

Luckily, it was just someone's foot on a cannister of, what was it David? Brake fluid? and we got to the restaurant (and back to the hotel) in one piece . . . well, if you consider inebriated as "in one piece".

I'll say this for riding in the Scout though - it's memorable! I feel very priviledged to have had that experience, particularly as it will now be a rarer opportunity!! Definitely, the end of an era!

Yeah, J. Hope put her big friggin' foot on the starter fluid.

In fairness to Joan, I feel I MUST clarify that there really isn't a whole lot of leg room in the Scout, and it does become problematic sitting with your knees up your nose for any length of time.

So one does need to move one's feet around a bit to keep them from going completely numb! It COULD have been any one of us, it was just dumb luck that it happened to be Joan!

Kristen, the fact remains: In the span of a half hour, Joan spilled beer in your lap and hosed us all down with pure ethyl alcohol from a can. But I'll never forget her climbing into what she called my "rig," there in front of the elegant Knickerbocker Hotel. She didn't even open the door. In that moment, Joan and I were bonded without a gasket.

I'm saddened about this news. But I am proud that I was one of the honored allowed to ride in the Scout. That was one of the funnest evenings. Ah, the memories...

Hey, truly, only I could manage that much klutziness on a sustained basis. Story of my life. I have fallen off the back of a motorcycle, out of the basket of a dog sled, and countless times off snow machines. Not to mention just keeling over, sober even, by catching on unseen rocks (I choose to believe that I'm tripping, not just falling because I can't stand up). Mr. Gravity is NOT my friend.

But YOU are, Davey boy. And I mourn the migration of your Scout, even though I'm sure she'll be happier living on the farm instead of pent up in the city. Though I don't really know--I think that Scout liked defying norms and held herself quite proudly in those sophisticated streets.

In my defense, though, David--I KNEW I recognized that smell, and ultimately discovered the starter fluid all by myself. I even knew what it was good for, including starting rip-roaring fires! lol. Fortunely I didn't light up a smoke whilst in the rear end of the Scout. That would have been a truly memorable ride!

ha ha a great response from Bryant!

....and why do these arbitrary, self-chosen adventures matter, if it's true that we don't have enough problems otherwise? Because we need 'an adventure every day', and if we're lucky enough to not to have mundane concerns tugging at us all the time, well, there are a million places to scare up an adventure, growth experience, a challenge or whatever you want to call it. (I mean you were going golfing weren't you?)
I say sell the car and find even higher quality adventures, no offense...

Well said, Tom. Turning 40 this month, and that's just my plan.

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