A little background...Small and I play the "Punch Buggy" game. Ad nauseum. Constantly. With serious and sometimes bloody results. There is screaming, name calling (La Whos Zer!), and downright ruthless aggression. It's a problem in our family.
Fast forward to today. Here we are...driving to the beach..minding our own beeswax...when WHAM! There it is...the PERFECT punch buggy. Cue the squealing...and heart palpitations...and tears...and joy...and adoration. We created dreams of surfboards on top (we don't surf...), hula girl on the dash, just following the open summer road. We pictured ourselves with tan lines and sandy toes..gypsies for the beach. We named our baby girl and promised her an esteemed place in the household.
And that was all before we even got to the parking lot.
We finangled a turn around. Under the guise that something this beautiful must be captured on film! And then we see it....the 'For Sale' sign.
Now the stars have moved from perfect unison to cruelty and malevolence. What kind of heartless world we live in that such a lovely creation cannot be mine. And to taunt me so...I can touch you, look upon you, caress your perfect exterior...only to have to abandon you..alone and forsaken..and unwanted by the callous being who owns you now.
I am sad and forlorn. My dreams shatter and crumble in front of me. Never before have I seen such perfection in metal and paint. A 1969 (!) Volkswagen Beetle. In teal blue. With white leather and chrome interior. And a stick shift. Fabulous..beautiful..automotive happiness.
My dear sweet Veronica Blue..you WILL be mine. (And Small says she is keeping you forever.) Oh yes...you WILL be mine.