charlobo-a-go-go

I live at the end of a cul-de-sac. But when I was growing up, we just called it a Dead End. So that’s what we’ll call it. A Dead End. In order for me to get out of my driveway, I need to do a three point turn backwards, often at an angle. It’s quite a sight to behold, actually.

Anyway, when I was backing out, I peered into my rearview to see what was going on behind me. I noticed that one of the cars that belongs to my neighbor had a green something on her windshield. This family, by the way, has a shit ton of cars at their house. 1 X5. 2 Lexus (Lexi?). When the boyfriend comes over, 1 Honda Prelude (riced out). 1 Mercedes. 1 Porsche Cayenne. Sometimes all at once. Sometimes they’re all gone for a week. Whatever. 

Anyways, I pull out and manage to wedge myself into their driveway and pull up next to the Lexus and see it’s a rose. Looks like it’s been there all night. I flashed back to those dorky days when you would get into a fight with a significant other and you’d find mementos or notes left for you in some kawawa state as a lame way to beg forgiveness or to get back in your good graces.

I could only imagine what kind of fight would merit a rose on a windshield, and how brazen an act for everyone to see (it was parked at a 90 degree angle). Ya gotta have nuts and be seriously in love with someone to put your “I’m a Schmuck” badge out there for everyone to see.

As I drove away, I glanced back and had to laugh about how wack those days were when you wake up (or open a door, whatever) to find someone’s apology that wasn’t really an apology -  more like a bait and switch. Ooh lookie pretty flower, please overlook the fact that I macked on your best friend. Flooooowwwweer.

I got home later that day and the rose was gone, but the car back in the same place. Good luck, Prelude boy. I would have probably gone with a “I’m sorry.” those tend to last longer than floooooowwwwwers.

char