There was a car and a Prince and a Sheriff
September 7th was the date that Prince came to Salt Lake City on his tour. I had tickets.
As usual, I was running a bit late. However, finally, we had dinner and many blankets and the tarp and ourselves in the vehicle and it was pointed South. We were doing 70 up the hill, 75 down the road, when all of a sudden... "Houston, we have a problem."
Yes, I actually said that. The car was now doing 50, then 40, then 30 and there was no hope of encouraging it to go fast. The semi behind me and the truck in the other lane were displeased and not inclined to let me get to the side of the road. Therefore, I ended up parked in the middle of the "suicide lane".
I had NO desire to pick up my dinner, blankets, tarp, child, CDs and WALK to the concert, so I called my mother. (Yes, I am old, what of it? Hmmmmmm?) Whilst she was coming, promising to rush to my rescue, I mocked the chickens (Yes, chickens! Live chickens!) that were frolicking on the side of the highway. When along came "My Hero": The Sheriff!
*insert Dudley Dooright music*
He waved, as he drove past. At first I thought this bad, then he backed up. He sauntered to my window and, tipping his hat (really) he quoth, "Interesting place to decide to park."
I nodded and replied, "Well, there were chickens....and it's so scenic here." He gave me one of those looks, so I continued. "You see, officer, I was driving along when suddenly my car decided, for no apparent reason, to cease to move. Hence, I am here." Batting of eyelashes. "Help???"
He nodded, looked under the hood, scratched his head and hmmmmmed a bit. A friend of his in another light-encrusted car, stopped to find out if he needed help with the dangerous Ford Escort and its cohort of evil women. He shrugged, they conferred and the friend stopped traffic so that he could push my car to the side of the road. I aimed for the chickens!!!
He left, with much thanks, and we awaited my mother. She came, had us drop her off at her house (after apologizing for living so far from where we broke down) and insisted that we take her car to the concert. (My mother is extremely cool.... probably the reason that I can stand to live in the same city with her.) We did.
*Insert the "We Like to Party" music*.
We were off (yes, indeed, in more ways that one). Off to the concert. Needless to say, by this time were were LATE. The friend we picked up had had a few to pass the time and she stumbled to the car and forgave us for holding her up.
We drove to the field, above the other field, above the parking lot, above the ampitheater where the concert was held. We found out later that missing the opening act was a blessing. A place on the lawn was procured.
Prince arrived. He sang very high. We danced a lot and screamed a bit and stood on the blankets that we had lugged from the above-mentioned temporary auto holding place. I do not think that he ever finished a single song. It was fun, however.
We took bets on how many items of clothing the extremely affectionate couple in front of us would lose before the concert ended. We plotted what to shove down the throat of the Etremely loud screaming ditzy blond behind us. Dogs in distant counties were howling in reply to her screeching. We laughed. We sang. We mocked people. All in all an excellent evening!
As for the hunk-of-metal formerly known as a car that died on the way to the show by the Artist Formerly Know as the Artist Formerly Known as Prince... It decided that it needed a new... wait for it... a new timing belt AND new plugs and wires AND fuel filter AND a transmission flush. It got the New Brakes last week. Who says your children are your most expensive investments.
Still, I had a blast. Just do not mention the bill.
As usual, I was running a bit late. However, finally, we had dinner and many blankets and the tarp and ourselves in the vehicle and it was pointed South. We were doing 70 up the hill, 75 down the road, when all of a sudden... "Houston, we have a problem."
Yes, I actually said that. The car was now doing 50, then 40, then 30 and there was no hope of encouraging it to go fast. The semi behind me and the truck in the other lane were displeased and not inclined to let me get to the side of the road. Therefore, I ended up parked in the middle of the "suicide lane".
I had NO desire to pick up my dinner, blankets, tarp, child, CDs and WALK to the concert, so I called my mother. (Yes, I am old, what of it? Hmmmmmm?) Whilst she was coming, promising to rush to my rescue, I mocked the chickens (Yes, chickens! Live chickens!) that were frolicking on the side of the highway. When along came "My Hero": The Sheriff!
*insert Dudley Dooright music*
He waved, as he drove past. At first I thought this bad, then he backed up. He sauntered to my window and, tipping his hat (really) he quoth, "Interesting place to decide to park."
I nodded and replied, "Well, there were chickens....and it's so scenic here." He gave me one of those looks, so I continued. "You see, officer, I was driving along when suddenly my car decided, for no apparent reason, to cease to move. Hence, I am here." Batting of eyelashes. "Help???"
He nodded, looked under the hood, scratched his head and hmmmmmed a bit. A friend of his in another light-encrusted car, stopped to find out if he needed help with the dangerous Ford Escort and its cohort of evil women. He shrugged, they conferred and the friend stopped traffic so that he could push my car to the side of the road. I aimed for the chickens!!!
He left, with much thanks, and we awaited my mother. She came, had us drop her off at her house (after apologizing for living so far from where we broke down) and insisted that we take her car to the concert. (My mother is extremely cool.... probably the reason that I can stand to live in the same city with her.) We did.
*Insert the "We Like to Party" music*.
We were off (yes, indeed, in more ways that one). Off to the concert. Needless to say, by this time were were LATE. The friend we picked up had had a few to pass the time and she stumbled to the car and forgave us for holding her up.
We drove to the field, above the other field, above the parking lot, above the ampitheater where the concert was held. We found out later that missing the opening act was a blessing. A place on the lawn was procured.
Prince arrived. He sang very high. We danced a lot and screamed a bit and stood on the blankets that we had lugged from the above-mentioned temporary auto holding place. I do not think that he ever finished a single song. It was fun, however.
We took bets on how many items of clothing the extremely affectionate couple in front of us would lose before the concert ended. We plotted what to shove down the throat of the Etremely loud screaming ditzy blond behind us. Dogs in distant counties were howling in reply to her screeching. We laughed. We sang. We mocked people. All in all an excellent evening!
As for the hunk-of-metal formerly known as a car that died on the way to the show by the Artist Formerly Know as the Artist Formerly Known as Prince... It decided that it needed a new... wait for it... a new timing belt AND new plugs and wires AND fuel filter AND a transmission flush. It got the New Brakes last week. Who says your children are your most expensive investments.
Still, I had a blast. Just do not mention the bill.