Word comes from my bodyguard Dave that he’s gone out and bought a Flame Red 2010 Jeep Wrangler for his wife, mindless, whipped hubby-drone that he is.
I don’t mean to demean the guy, as we all know he’s a family man first and foremost and does a fairly decent job of balancing his duties here and taking care of the Queen and the Princess at home. I fully admit, as well, that I don’t make it easy as I compete for his attention and time with that woman. She’s tough, too. A Dorchester kid (I guess that means something down there in Massachusetts, I don’t fucking know), she’s streetwise and has some finely honed close combat skills. The few times we’ve gotten in each other faces I had the same sort of sensation as when you’re jabbing a pointed stick into a wolverine’s nest. Prepare to protect your vitals.
So, yeah, there are confilcts. I call up the house at last night, “Dave! Someone just sent me two tickets to Saturday’s Nuclear Cowboyz show! Grab a case of duster and meet me outiside the Garden!”
I hear “Uhhmm…” and something in groggily in the backround about Ginsu knives and testicles I know damn well I’ll be partying with Dirty Shelley the Oil Change Girl from Aldo’s Auto Repair again.
But, hey, I understand. I hear the pain in the man’s voice when he says, “Ken…dude…it’s 3:30 in the morning…” I know he wishes he had the kind of freedom I do sometimes to just do what he wants, to go and rip shit up at the drop of the hat. Grab a bottle of Absolut, a beat up old pick-up truck, some fireworks and a machete and drive screaming into the night for parts unknown. I know. I see some of the gray hair from all the responsibilities that come along with a family, a house, two cars and a shit mess of cats. I get it and, y’know, I can respect that.
Let’s be honest, Dave has accomlished something that I never could. The stability and comfort of a happy, well run home where a young kid can grow up with a sense of security and love. No east task in this fucked-up mess of a world we’ve created for ourselves, so kudos to guy for that.
Motocross, dude. Mo-to-cross.
Anyway, he tells me her Highness is quite happy with the Wrangler, that, with 4-wheel drive and those over-sized tires it’s about as good a vehicle in the snow as you’re going to get and, given the outdoor lifestyle they sometimes like to lead, it’s the perfect vehicle for some of their Northern Adventures. Then, in the summer, the top comes off and the music gets turned up loud and it’s all wind and sun.
Jesus, when he puts it like that, if it doesn’t sound good. Looks like they still manage to have some pretty fun times despite all the day to day grind and what not. Go figure.
Nice job, Dave. Now don’t forget to stop by Munitions Depot on your way up here on Monday for that case of black powder and copper piping I ordered.
Dirty Shelley should be gone by then and we got work to do.