8100 seconds to go.
8099 seconds to go.
8098 seconds to go.....

My 12 is due today at 3pm.

"... and that's what tortures me....." Johnny Cash

What did I do in my last lifetime to deserve this?

ARRRGH!

Edg

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Half hour to go.

'Course, no telling if the truck's running on time.

Then comes that longest of long hours....the hour spent putting it together.

I have this notion that when I open up the box, I'll get this rush of rubber-tire odor that will be like perfume to me.

It so larger than life now. How can this live up to expectations?

I never want to go through this again.

I think I'm going to faint......

Edg

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You know those arranged marriages between kids, and the kids don't get to be "really married" until they are much older?

Well, imagine how it is if they both really dig each other on first sight, and then they would have to wait all those years for consummation.

Can you imagine how that would feel?

Dumb question, eh?

Edg

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Arrrrrrgh!
No delivery.
They're tracing it. They think it never left California.
They're suggesting maybe a Monday delivery now.
You all may feel appropriately sorry for me.

Edg
PS. Sniff, sniff, sniff, I can do this....I will not cry.....

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From: "Brett Breitwieser"
Subject: RE: [kickbiking] Torture
Ahhh, wonderful, a free lesson in patience....
think how much you'll appreciate it when it finally arrives....

Now they say it's coming tomorrow, but they have yet to give an estimated time of arrival.

As for appreciating it more.....no way.
So, I'll be up early and just sit there waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting.
Ain't nuttin' to do but look down the street, check my watch, look down the street, check my watch.
Maybe I'll exhale.

Yep, tomorrow is me waiting for Godot to deliver my Roadster.

Edg

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edg@duveyoung.com writes:
". . . waiting for Godot to deliver my Roadster."
WeezlLady writes:
"My sis thinks this a bit of a high-brow reference for an HPV board. How 'bout it folks? Who's seen Home Improvement?"

Penny,

I'll have you know that I have never read Waiting For Godot, and I resent any implication that I might have done otherwise. I am like everyone else -- if it ain't in the cliff notes, it ain't worth knowing. According to the plot reviews of the play, it sounds perfectly like my present situation: waiting and having no way to hurry any resolutions.

As for the rest of the HPVers here not getting the Samuel Beckett reference, if true, they've been blessed with not having yet another umpteenth useless info-bit implanted in their already overloaded brains. Who needs more, eh? I mean where does one fit it all?

But, geeze Penny, if HPVers do, as a group, know about Waiting For Godot, then, you will have besmirched a group of sweet and interesting people that I have found to be wonderfully deep, intensely caring, simply magnificent, stellar, warm, loving, compassionate folk. Incomprehensibly alluring minds in each and every one of them.

Sic her gang!

Then get her smug, pointy headed, ivory towered, snooty sister!

;-)

Edg

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Penny,

I used to be a member of the robustoassum potatous couchus species. A fine breed -- as breeds go. No literary taint in their histories for sure.

But I've given up being a specie. Just the sound of the word, ya know?
Does anyone answer to it?
Like: "Hey specie, yeah you over there, get your specie butt over here."

I mean, if they ever invent a specie that has personal immortality and fit youthfulness, then, yeah, 'course, I'll sign on, but even then, openly acknowledging that I am incarnate is a form of angst therapy. Misidentification is the bane of all, but in me it seems especially off target. I've thought I was things you wouldn't believe. Sigh.... No sign of the Roadster. Gildo cudda rode it here and personally delivered to me by now. I tried to divert myself -- went out on my 8 and pretended it was a Roadster. The laughter of passersby still echoes.

Edg
PS. About the pile of leaves. This is why we all need a kerosene spritzer nozzles off the backs of our Trikkes. "Trikke it and light it," that's my motto.

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The sad tale continues.
So, somehow my Roadster is in Memphis, TN, and now the plane it is on has "something leaking."
So, no deliveries tomorrow, so Monday...and at this point, even that's a maybe.
If you sees a moral to this story . . . keep it to yourself, bub.
>:--(

Edg

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IT ARRIVES!