Monday, August 02, 2004
I can't believe I ate the whole thing...
I survived the trip with The Mac and my father. We went to Meadowbrook Hall and saw cars. I know to most of you that doesn’t sound like much, but we saw over 200 cars that were each worth well over what most of us will ever amass in our lifetimes. These cars were works of art. We saw vintage, classics, Italian sports cars, cars of the American Golden Era, Packards, Pierce Arrows, Ferraris, Bugattis, Bizzarinis, Rolls Royces, Cadillacs, and the list goes on and on.
The Concourso Italiano was on Saturday, and we left The Mac’s place around 8:30a. We took “the long way”, because my father didn’t listen to The Mac’s interpretations of the map. We drove slowly, and it took a lot longer than anticipated. The trip was enjoyable, though, because The Mac and I had an extended conversation about Johnny Cash and music, and lots of inane topics that irritated the driver (our father). As I was the only one who had had the foresight to bring CDs on the drive, it was my stuff we had to listen to, further irritating the driver. By the time we arrived at Meadowbrook Hall, the driver was irritated enough not to listen to any of the instructions we were periodically yelling at him. ”Turn Left here! No, get in the left lane. Your OTHER LEFT!!! AAaaaaaaa!!!” (as the exit went whizzing by)
“Look, you’re gonna want the other lane eventually… no, not that turning lane, NOT THE TURNING LANE!!”
“Pontiac. Yes, Pontiac. We’re going to turn on Squirrel Road. The one we just went by. Yep.”
“THIS IS THE OUT LANE, NOT THE IN LANE!! Aaaaaaaa!!”
And some of me just yelling “we’re all gonna die!” at various junctures, as we cut out various vehicles, or were cut off by various vehicles.
We made it to the parking lot. The Mac and I were hungry, it was after 1p, but because we were late having taken the longer route and having missed exits and stuff, The Grumpaw refused to even consider the prospect of lunch. NO LUNCH!! There was no stopping along the way, there was no drive-through, so we got to the concourso without having eaten for many hours. The burning hot sun beat down on us as our father led us on what would have been a death march were it not for the extremely insightful folks selling horrendously expensive sandwiches, which The Mac and I scarfed down as fast as humanly possible.
The Concourso was beautiful. Shiny, glistening Italian beauties everywhere. The Grumpaw's main goal at these events is to get pictures of every single car (unless it has been previously photographed, because he has promised my mother not to take pictures of cars he knows he already has…), so he set off to do exactly that as The Mac and I obtained our expensive sandwiches. We followed, slowly, taking in the sights. It was great!
After the show, we headed out to find a room. We tried the Holiday Inn Select, The Hampshire Inn, and then The Grumpaw spotted the Motel 6. We tried to convince him that The Motel 6 was not the way to go, but he wouldn’t be dissuaded. He said he’d go in “just to check if they had vacancies”, but when he didn’t come back right away, we knew we were done-for. Checked-in and everything. The next logical order of business was to find dinner.
My father consulted the phone book. He selected the most expensive looking ad, and tried to find it on the map. I suggested we try for something close, and not too pricey, and we set out on the road. As we were driving, I caught sight of Mountain Jack’s, and convinced the driver to make a series of choreographed turns and park it. Right next to the motel. Mere steps away from our room door. And yea, it was a fantastic dinner. It was marvelous. We laughed, we ate, we stuffed ourselves completely. I ate so much that I was actually giddy with the over-nutrition. Of course, it was not that late by the time we finished, and we were back at the motel by around 8:30p. Twelve hours from where we started. And with that, The Grumpaw declared a lights-out.
The next day was the real concourse – the 250 cars from mostly the pre-war era. The cars were fantastic. The weather was fantastic. The entire day was pretty much just great overall. Amidst the great-looking cars, I spotted a great-looking guy who appeared to be about 28 or so, tall, dark, handsome and all that. As it turned out, he was an exhibitor of a Rolls Royce (or attached thereto, the car probably belonged to his father who was decked-out in a fantastic hawaiian print shirt). I didn’t talk to him, but mention him because he was just as good-looking as most of the cars.
We made our way VERY slowly through the cars. I have discovered that although I can walk all day, I cannot stand still. It’s not the heat or the walking that’ll kill me – it’s standing around, not doing anything at all. That’s terrible. If I’m looking at something, I can stand for a few minutes, but time has no meaning in The Grumpaw's universe. He can stand stock still for up to ten minutes waiting for people to move and clear the view of the car he wants to photograph, camera aimed and at the ready. He’s quick, I’ll grant him that – he can snap a photo as soon as the view clears – but he’s also tenacious and has the patience of Job.
The cars were all eventually photographed, and some of us were suffering from dehydration because the guy who sold ice cream and water was OUT of WATER when that’s his entire raison-d’etre… (don’t worry, I got some water after all, and managed to survive the end of our excursion). The car show people were doing a “proper concours” – which entailed a fashion show to accompany the cars, all period dress. Don’t get me wrong, it was nice, and they should probably make a better stab at doing that properly, but there weren’t many models, the cars moved slowly, and you couldn’t really see them after all. The commentators on the cars and the fashions were a little strange, too. We left, and my brother and father then proceeded to check out the cars in the parking lot. FOR TWENTY MORE MINUTES. With me sitting in the car, roasting.
The drive home was relatively uneventful. I brought two-way radios on the trip so I could communicate with my parents in their vehicle from mine, and there was one in the van. I turned it on to “scan” when we hit the Ohio Toll Road exit traffic jam, and listened in on another group’s conversation.
“DoSKK yRSSSK work tomorrow?”
“What?””Does your wife have to work tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
“Well I don’t, because I’m on VAAACAAAAAAAATION!” Heh.
“This traffic is unberarable. We’ve been here forever!”
“Yeah, fucking Ohians!”
We sped home. We got back well in time for dinner, although I was still stuffed from the previous feasting. I declared the next day, which was today, the Outlet Mall Day.
As I write this, the NoodleDog capers about my feet, amongst the many items I bought at the Outlet Mall. Yes, today we went to the Outlet Mall, and it was good. It wasn’t quite as good as the shopping trip The Mac and I went on last year, which I think was better because it was the Labor Day sale, but it was pretty good. I knew the Eddie Bauer Outlet Store was there, so it was only a matter of finding the best bargains and neatest stuff therein.
We went early, and stayed late. The trip started out auspiciously, with The Mac driving us the 35 mile distance to Capital City. The Grumpaw had been complaining bitterly up until The Mac approached a yellow light, saying “I don’t think I’m going to stop at that light. Well, I probably have time. Goodbye light!” as the light turned red, and I think Pete suffered an apoplectic fit depriving him of the power of speech. He was quite from that point on. We saw the Riverboat casino, because in Indiana, the casinos can’t be on dry land. They recently changed the laws so that the casino boat can stay docked all the time, because as the Mac related, the strict governor died, and the vice-governor who took over was a little friendlier to gambling. The Mac and I have been to the Riverboat casino, but that was a sad tale and we’d prefer not to relive it.
The shopping was great. There was stuff everywhere. We came, we saw, we conquered. I’m not a typical woman in that I have a very small collection of footwear, but it’s getting larger, and I’m working on it. I managed to find a couple of pairs of sandals to add to the collection, and a bunch of clothing I probably don’t really NEED, but today wasn’t about need. It was about getting stuff for a deal. It was great fun. The Mac got a fantastic yellow sweater. I found some nice linen pants, and a fleece vest, and on and on.
However, tragedy struck when we got back to the car. We had managed to lose a set of car keys. My parents’ overcautiousness paid off, and we were OK, we got home with the other set, but we’re down a set of car keys. The Mac tried to find them in the stores where he had tried on pants and such, since he was the last one to have had them, but no luck. The only black mark on an otherwise great and successful day.
Tomorrow, my parents plan to talk to The Mac about his finances and “the future”. I plan on making myself scarce!!
The Concourso Italiano was on Saturday, and we left The Mac’s place around 8:30a. We took “the long way”, because my father didn’t listen to The Mac’s interpretations of the map. We drove slowly, and it took a lot longer than anticipated. The trip was enjoyable, though, because The Mac and I had an extended conversation about Johnny Cash and music, and lots of inane topics that irritated the driver (our father). As I was the only one who had had the foresight to bring CDs on the drive, it was my stuff we had to listen to, further irritating the driver. By the time we arrived at Meadowbrook Hall, the driver was irritated enough not to listen to any of the instructions we were periodically yelling at him. ”Turn Left here! No, get in the left lane. Your OTHER LEFT!!! AAaaaaaaa!!!” (as the exit went whizzing by)
“Look, you’re gonna want the other lane eventually… no, not that turning lane, NOT THE TURNING LANE!!”
“Pontiac. Yes, Pontiac. We’re going to turn on Squirrel Road. The one we just went by. Yep.”
“THIS IS THE OUT LANE, NOT THE IN LANE!! Aaaaaaaa!!”
And some of me just yelling “we’re all gonna die!” at various junctures, as we cut out various vehicles, or were cut off by various vehicles.
We made it to the parking lot. The Mac and I were hungry, it was after 1p, but because we were late having taken the longer route and having missed exits and stuff, The Grumpaw refused to even consider the prospect of lunch. NO LUNCH!! There was no stopping along the way, there was no drive-through, so we got to the concourso without having eaten for many hours. The burning hot sun beat down on us as our father led us on what would have been a death march were it not for the extremely insightful folks selling horrendously expensive sandwiches, which The Mac and I scarfed down as fast as humanly possible.
The Concourso was beautiful. Shiny, glistening Italian beauties everywhere. The Grumpaw's main goal at these events is to get pictures of every single car (unless it has been previously photographed, because he has promised my mother not to take pictures of cars he knows he already has…), so he set off to do exactly that as The Mac and I obtained our expensive sandwiches. We followed, slowly, taking in the sights. It was great!
After the show, we headed out to find a room. We tried the Holiday Inn Select, The Hampshire Inn, and then The Grumpaw spotted the Motel 6. We tried to convince him that The Motel 6 was not the way to go, but he wouldn’t be dissuaded. He said he’d go in “just to check if they had vacancies”, but when he didn’t come back right away, we knew we were done-for. Checked-in and everything. The next logical order of business was to find dinner.
My father consulted the phone book. He selected the most expensive looking ad, and tried to find it on the map. I suggested we try for something close, and not too pricey, and we set out on the road. As we were driving, I caught sight of Mountain Jack’s, and convinced the driver to make a series of choreographed turns and park it. Right next to the motel. Mere steps away from our room door. And yea, it was a fantastic dinner. It was marvelous. We laughed, we ate, we stuffed ourselves completely. I ate so much that I was actually giddy with the over-nutrition. Of course, it was not that late by the time we finished, and we were back at the motel by around 8:30p. Twelve hours from where we started. And with that, The Grumpaw declared a lights-out.
The next day was the real concourse – the 250 cars from mostly the pre-war era. The cars were fantastic. The weather was fantastic. The entire day was pretty much just great overall. Amidst the great-looking cars, I spotted a great-looking guy who appeared to be about 28 or so, tall, dark, handsome and all that. As it turned out, he was an exhibitor of a Rolls Royce (or attached thereto, the car probably belonged to his father who was decked-out in a fantastic hawaiian print shirt). I didn’t talk to him, but mention him because he was just as good-looking as most of the cars.
We made our way VERY slowly through the cars. I have discovered that although I can walk all day, I cannot stand still. It’s not the heat or the walking that’ll kill me – it’s standing around, not doing anything at all. That’s terrible. If I’m looking at something, I can stand for a few minutes, but time has no meaning in The Grumpaw's universe. He can stand stock still for up to ten minutes waiting for people to move and clear the view of the car he wants to photograph, camera aimed and at the ready. He’s quick, I’ll grant him that – he can snap a photo as soon as the view clears – but he’s also tenacious and has the patience of Job.
The cars were all eventually photographed, and some of us were suffering from dehydration because the guy who sold ice cream and water was OUT of WATER when that’s his entire raison-d’etre… (don’t worry, I got some water after all, and managed to survive the end of our excursion). The car show people were doing a “proper concours” – which entailed a fashion show to accompany the cars, all period dress. Don’t get me wrong, it was nice, and they should probably make a better stab at doing that properly, but there weren’t many models, the cars moved slowly, and you couldn’t really see them after all. The commentators on the cars and the fashions were a little strange, too. We left, and my brother and father then proceeded to check out the cars in the parking lot. FOR TWENTY MORE MINUTES. With me sitting in the car, roasting.
The drive home was relatively uneventful. I brought two-way radios on the trip so I could communicate with my parents in their vehicle from mine, and there was one in the van. I turned it on to “scan” when we hit the Ohio Toll Road exit traffic jam, and listened in on another group’s conversation.
“DoSKK yRSSSK work tomorrow?”
“What?””Does your wife have to work tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
“Well I don’t, because I’m on VAAACAAAAAAAATION!” Heh.
“This traffic is unberarable. We’ve been here forever!”
“Yeah, fucking Ohians!”
We sped home. We got back well in time for dinner, although I was still stuffed from the previous feasting. I declared the next day, which was today, the Outlet Mall Day.
As I write this, the NoodleDog capers about my feet, amongst the many items I bought at the Outlet Mall. Yes, today we went to the Outlet Mall, and it was good. It wasn’t quite as good as the shopping trip The Mac and I went on last year, which I think was better because it was the Labor Day sale, but it was pretty good. I knew the Eddie Bauer Outlet Store was there, so it was only a matter of finding the best bargains and neatest stuff therein.
We went early, and stayed late. The trip started out auspiciously, with The Mac driving us the 35 mile distance to Capital City. The Grumpaw had been complaining bitterly up until The Mac approached a yellow light, saying “I don’t think I’m going to stop at that light. Well, I probably have time. Goodbye light!” as the light turned red, and I think Pete suffered an apoplectic fit depriving him of the power of speech. He was quite from that point on. We saw the Riverboat casino, because in Indiana, the casinos can’t be on dry land. They recently changed the laws so that the casino boat can stay docked all the time, because as the Mac related, the strict governor died, and the vice-governor who took over was a little friendlier to gambling. The Mac and I have been to the Riverboat casino, but that was a sad tale and we’d prefer not to relive it.
The shopping was great. There was stuff everywhere. We came, we saw, we conquered. I’m not a typical woman in that I have a very small collection of footwear, but it’s getting larger, and I’m working on it. I managed to find a couple of pairs of sandals to add to the collection, and a bunch of clothing I probably don’t really NEED, but today wasn’t about need. It was about getting stuff for a deal. It was great fun. The Mac got a fantastic yellow sweater. I found some nice linen pants, and a fleece vest, and on and on.
However, tragedy struck when we got back to the car. We had managed to lose a set of car keys. My parents’ overcautiousness paid off, and we were OK, we got home with the other set, but we’re down a set of car keys. The Mac tried to find them in the stores where he had tried on pants and such, since he was the last one to have had them, but no luck. The only black mark on an otherwise great and successful day.
Tomorrow, my parents plan to talk to The Mac about his finances and “the future”. I plan on making myself scarce!!
