Men and Women stuff ...
Why do men feel such a strong need to point out the make, model, and year of almost every car they see. I'm lost in admiring the flowers, clouds, trees, and the colourful mailboxes, and what do I hear -- "There goes a 67 Chevelle!!! Wonder if it has a 327 or a 283 --- highly unlikely to be 396! Wow!" Now, where on earth could anyone pick up signals that I could care one teeny-weeny bit about some (old) car going the other way at sixty, being driven by someone I'll never meet, to somewhere I'll never go? Hell, at times he even tells me the colour! As If I'm blind or something.
If I'm lucky, I'm spared the history of vehicles from the invention of the wheel to the landing on the moon. (Complete with carburetor types and number of bolts holding the differential cover in place -- whatever these things are.)
I've tried to give him a taste of his own medicine --- "Look at the taffeta she's wearing!", but it doesn't work. He looks and says "Joe wore socks that colour to the company picnic in 1971." He continues by telling me about the fishing trip taken with Joe 25 years ago, with details of lures, line, bait, and how much beer was consumed. If I don't get him stopped, I'll hear about every rock and snag on the lake along with maintenance tips for various outboard motors. Trolling batteries soon follow.
He's a nice guy, but he lives in a (not so) parallel universe.
Cheers, PW.
|
