Milestones
I reached one of those important milestones this week. Somewhere between Shattuck and Telegraph on Alcatraz. The odometer on my truck rolled over to 160,000 miles even. 159,998 crept into the corner of my eye as I looked down to see how slow the green living, Berkeley Prius driver, not sure which lane to occupy, in front of me was going . "Wow, truck is about to roll over to 160,000 miles!" I announced to my passenger. He was mildly disinterested, preferring to call the Prius driver an [explicative phrase].
As we passed the [explicative phrase] Prius driver, I continued to bore my passenger with the important milestone conversation. When I was kid, the family was driving from Vegas to Kansas, and the family VW Square back rolled over to 40,000. Out in the Arizona desert somewhere my Dad said, "Hey kids look?" and my brother , Fuzzy the dog, and I peered over my father's shoulder to watch odometer advancement. My mother even turned her head a bit to the left. At 39,999.9 all the numbers moved at once. Slowly working in a wave from the last 9 to the 3. As they progressed, we "oohed". When the 40,000 clicked into place, we "Ahhed." It was like a decade change over at New Years without fireworks displays. (Well we had a hot panting and farting dog, so the noise and sulfur smell was there.)
My passenger was unimpressed by my story as I started to do the math out loud, "I wonder if the odometer going to click over before I get back to the house. We just crossed University, was it more than two miles home? Yeah, somewhere on Alcatraz, " I decided. Somewhere before Sacramento on Alcatraz the odometer clicked to 159,999. That's when the nostalgia clicked away. The odometer was a [explicative phrase] digital display. There would be no rolling, just a change of states.
[Explicative phrase] computers, I hate them. I realized there was just going to be a point where the display would just change. This was highly disappointing as I had just suggested to my passenger we should park the car and go get some other witnesses to the imminent event. To top off the problem, the state change was going to be so quick we'd have to keep our eyes on the odometer as we drove to see it. I had already almost hit some pant sagging wannabe gangster teenagers waddling their way across the street at 159,999. This was going to take concentration.
"Should I ooh and ah?" my passenger asked?
I said, "Please, " in response, "And can you practice a bit to get it just right?"
It took him 3/4's of a mile before he'd caught the right emotional inflection I needed in his voice. Well, as I said, somewhere between Shattuck and Telegraph the underwhelming odometer state change occurred. My passenger acted out his part and we drove on with the realization that computer engineers have robbed society of a nostalgic ceremony of passage. [Explicative phrase] computer engineers!
Well, fortunately being one of those [Explicative phrases] I have a solution: Grandma's 51 Chevy. It's odometer (and I mean real [explicative phrase] roll type, not state changing [explicative phrase] digital type is at 69,440. So at some point in 2010, Grandma's going to 70,000, and we are having a real old school, "Ooh, and Ah" party.
As we passed the [explicative phrase] Prius driver, I continued to bore my passenger with the important milestone conversation. When I was kid, the family was driving from Vegas to Kansas, and the family VW Square back rolled over to 40,000. Out in the Arizona desert somewhere my Dad said, "Hey kids look?" and my brother , Fuzzy the dog, and I peered over my father's shoulder to watch odometer advancement. My mother even turned her head a bit to the left. At 39,999.9 all the numbers moved at once. Slowly working in a wave from the last 9 to the 3. As they progressed, we "oohed". When the 40,000 clicked into place, we "Ahhed." It was like a decade change over at New Years without fireworks displays. (Well we had a hot panting and farting dog, so the noise and sulfur smell was there.)
My passenger was unimpressed by my story as I started to do the math out loud, "I wonder if the odometer going to click over before I get back to the house. We just crossed University, was it more than two miles home? Yeah, somewhere on Alcatraz, " I decided. Somewhere before Sacramento on Alcatraz the odometer clicked to 159,999. That's when the nostalgia clicked away. The odometer was a [explicative phrase] digital display. There would be no rolling, just a change of states.
[Explicative phrase] computers, I hate them. I realized there was just going to be a point where the display would just change. This was highly disappointing as I had just suggested to my passenger we should park the car and go get some other witnesses to the imminent event. To top off the problem, the state change was going to be so quick we'd have to keep our eyes on the odometer as we drove to see it. I had already almost hit some pant sagging wannabe gangster teenagers waddling their way across the street at 159,999. This was going to take concentration.
"Should I ooh and ah?" my passenger asked?
I said, "Please, " in response, "And can you practice a bit to get it just right?"
It took him 3/4's of a mile before he'd caught the right emotional inflection I needed in his voice. Well, as I said, somewhere between Shattuck and Telegraph the underwhelming odometer state change occurred. My passenger acted out his part and we drove on with the realization that computer engineers have robbed society of a nostalgic ceremony of passage. [Explicative phrase] computer engineers!
Well, fortunately being one of those [Explicative phrases] I have a solution: Grandma's 51 Chevy. It's odometer (and I mean real [explicative phrase] roll type, not state changing [explicative phrase] digital type is at 69,440. So at some point in 2010, Grandma's going to 70,000, and we are having a real old school, "Ooh, and Ah" party.
posted by Stan at 9:12 PM
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