Street Legal

... and over the hill -

A pretty big month I guess. A birthday and my 36th annual car inspection, but who's counting? One new twist however, is provided by my WONDERFUL spouse who instead of making fun of just another in a long list of my foibles, phobias, and downright craziness decided to pamper my undeserving rear end in an act of sheer unselfish generosity which I appreciate beyond description.

A couple of years ago about this time of year I happened to idly mention that one of my biggest phobias (measuring a full 8 or 9 on the Richter scale) in life for me is getting my car inspected. This has been a major discomforting event every year of my life as a registered driver - dental or proctology exams register with far less impact - barely a tremor. What's the big deal ? Well, of course I've blown it out of proportion I'm sure, but my experience with cars has not been a totally pleasant one, in fact for me they have been at times, a failed expectation, a fear, a source of varying degrees of anxiety, an unwanted expense, and generally just a necessary inconvenience.

Fears of something going horribly wrong or a blatant (perhaps fatal) display of my menial automotive skills begin the entry into panic mode. Visons of missing the appointed inspection mark, a tail pipe probe revealing a less than acceptable emission (a concern not limited to vehicle inspections), a sudden uncontrolled lurch of the vehicle into the inspector, responding inappropriately to the barrage of commands dictated by the Drill Instructor, uh, Inspector. Then, of course, is the fact that I'm interacting with a governmental function eliciting any number of hallucinations of the thematic Gestapho or Gulag variety, and finally the ever-present fear of inspection failure causing a mandatory repeat of the whole Kafkaesque process. And let's not forget - there's a DEADLINE. So the annual reminder of all these major and minor traumas - the inspection - is just one huge grain of salt in a permanently open wound. I'd prefer to just admit to my treasonous offenses under waterboarding and be done with this whole thing - "OK - I DID IT - STOP !".

So imagine the surprise to my unbelieving ears, and my relief, when my loving wife without hesitation replied to my confession that she would be more than happy to remove this unnecessary aggravation from my Post Traumatically Stressed psyche. Aside from being the most caring and loving wife, she is probably one of the best drivers since Neal Cassidy and possesses a built in GPS system to boot ! So while it's no surprise that this chore would come more easily to her than me, there is no way to measure my gratitude except perhaps in the added mileage bestowed on this weary traveler.

Thank You my Love !