Library Notes
October 14, 2004
By Pansy Hundley, Librarian.
And, here is the "Rest of the Story" I promised last week. As evidenced by this writing, you can see that an eighteen-wheeler did not run me over.
You know what would have been funnier when I got that dinky little ‘ole car, if that Ford feller had given me a standard shift to drive. I mean, I learned to drive, driving tractors and herding a Dodge pickup across a hay-field, when my Dad’s tractor ran out of gas at the other end of the hay field. I drove that Dodge pickup to town, Van Alstyne usually, with no brakes, gearing that thing down, to get a barrel of gas or a part for a machine. Had that car been standard, I could just have put that vehicle in first and drove away. No problem ----and to lay down a rubber streak would have been even funnier. Usta’ drag race too, so I could have done it, and left those guys standing there with their mouths open, staring at nothing.
I did my little dab of shopping and drove around, looking at the town. I stumbled upon an antique/twice loved sort of place, and that’s right up my alley. I walked into that place, and discovered that they had more "stuff" than a person could look at in a day. But, I did my best .I spent all that "waiting time" there and looked at almost everything they had. I bought a few things and talked myself out of many more.
The time flew by. I didn’t bother with lunch and 4:00 o’clock rolled around. I collected my treasures, paid for them and got that foreign machine headed back to get my American Mercury, with a new, unwavy, windshield.
I putt-putted back, didn’t get run over, avoided all eighteen-wheelers and those windshield wipers swiped across ever now and then.
I got back to the dealership at 4:15 and my Sable was ready to go. The Ford feller then said "We couldn’t fix the tail-pipe rattle, because we didn’t have the part and will have to order it." Hot Dog! I did not even look smug, even if it really was the tail-pipe that was rattling. I’m good! He said the hangers had to be replaced and they would call me to make another appointment later.
I’m still rattling around, but at least I don’t have a wavy windshield now. I am not green. I love my latest Mercury, drives like a dream, just like it’s supposed to. I have one of those little dealies that you push to lock and unlock the doors and the trunk. A person could get spoiled to that. I find myself wishing I had one for my house, when I walk up to the door with both hands full.
In spite of everything, I shall still have to make another long trip to Denison to get the tail-pipe rattle-free. More of my "day-off work"that I won’t get done. However, I feel sure the things at home will not go away. I have no fear that they will not wait on me and more stack up on top of them.
With the wavy windshield gone, the rattle awaiting its’ new support bracket, me giving up "another man’s car", we’ll leave my troubles and go on to someone else’s in the following mystery, entitled "Bitter Harvest" written by Susan Bowden.
"With her reporter husband away on a foreign assignment, Michelle Tyler is once again facing Thanksgiving alone. As the holiday draws near, her thoughts turn toward her mother, who single-handedly raised her after being disowned by her wealthy and powerful family. So when a letter arrives from Michelle’s estranged grandmother, Eleanor, inviting her for the holidays, she decides to accept, ready to put the past to rest. A series of disturbing events has convinced the aging matriarch that someone is plotting against her, and she’s anxious to confide in an outsider she can trust. Michelle quickly comes to care for her ailing grandmother, but she seems to be the one who doesn’t think Eleanor is imagining things. As family tensions intensify, Michelle soon discovers that someone who didn’t know she was coming will do anything to make her leave……."