How will the A to Z Challengees address today’s letter, X?
Today on the A to Z Challenge, X is for Xenon. Don’t remember Xenon? It’s on your periodic table, element No. 54. That happened to be my football uniform number, back in the day. It’s a noble gas. I aspire to be noble. It’s colorless, dense and odorless.
I struggle with that last one sometimes.
I’m definitely a color – honey roasted, most accurately.
I could be considered dense. I struggle to learn stuff sometimes. Odorless? Well, I aspire to it. Maybe I’m not devoid of odor. I dream that I lean more toward cumin and vanilla than soccer cleats and garlic Parmesan chicken wings. One can hope.
And I’m not above stretching a scientific word into a story like this one.
It’s a story about when I left my best girl for a day and ran off with a younger one.
My best girl was down for the count. Do you expect me to sit around and wait? A man needs to ride. It’s natural. She turned the corner into my sight. In slow motion, I could hear strains of Diana Krall crooning to So Nice (Summer Samba.) Her curves and verve took my breath away.
Someone to understand
Each little dream in me
Someone to take my hand
To be a team with me
It’s been a while for me, with another girl.
What does a guy like me know about firing up a girl like her? I had to ask for help. I learned though. I can ignite her with just a touch. I’m still learning. But it’s becoming easier.
Isn’t she beautiful?
Gabi’s at the shop. When we reunite, she’ll be good as new. Well, no. She’ll be good as Gabi. The flash and shine of modern engineering and a sunroof will fade. Why me, and this Mini Cooper? Why this Billy Joel/Christie Brinkley pairing of rental car and dude with rental car coverage on his insurance?
After leaving Gabi at the auto shop, I waited in two hours to replace her with a younger model. Others who waited griped and chided the rental-car clerk. I didn’t. It wasn’t his fault. Poor dude was swamped. When it was my turn, he looked up and said:
“Thanks for being so patient. I’m about to get you a Mini Cooper, my man.”
Yessss. No wood-paneled station wagon after all.
I can’t tell you all the adventures Coraline (yes, I named her) and I took in together. I will tell you I sang like Lionel Richie. I rolled the windows down and opened the sunroof and let the wind breeze through my salt-and-pepper hair until my scalp sizzled a bit.
I also lost her in the work parking lot, still can’t figure out how to open her trunk (excuse me?) and I’m pretty sure the lady with the jack-o-lantern smile who winked at me at a traffic light wouldn’t have even noticed me in my Pontiac.
It’s all good. Soon, Gabi and I (shit, I had to think a few seconds to remember her name! I really am a big jerk) are meant to be. Coraline’s lithe lines and leather seats will fade from memory. Gabi’s squeaky brakes and paint-chipped hood will beckon me home.
I might even give her a good wash this weekend.
It’s the noble thing to do for love.