As in no beans.
And it's -15 below.
That's like scuba diving 120 ft below the surface and running out of air.
Both situations are survivable but the odds are stacked against you.
I hurry out to the loaner to drive to the store.
The reason for the loaner? The minivan blew another power steering pump.
3rd one in 6 weeks.
Yeah. There's a problem somewhere.
In contrast, every workday morning I climb into Phelgm the Taurus and - under growling protest - he starts.
Phlegm. Good ol' Phlegm.
I named him, so he's no longer just a car.
An "it".
He's Phlegm. My Taurus.
We've had three minivans over the last 10-12 years.
Never named a one of them.
They were just "the vans".
Huh.
Looking back, names pop up for cars that were more than just mere vehicles.
(I know I've told you about these in the past, but I'm on a roll here. Sorry.)
There were the Wife's two AMC Pacers. You remember them, right? Aquariums with wheels.
The red-and-white one was the Bobber.
The mint green one was the Glass Bass.
Together in marital bliss,
we had a big green Dodge Coronet.
A huge 4-door.
It was named the KDOC.
"The Kosher Dill of Canaan".
It was the size of the cucumbers Caleb brought back from the scouting trip.
The others were mine.
The Great White Goose, a '68 Impala that migrated me and two years of college stuff back home, stopping for gas about every two hours and oil every 45 minutes.
Lazarus, the '69 Camaro convertible, so named because we kept bringing him back from the dead.
One motor, three clutches, and other automotive things.
The Thunder Chicken, a red '63 T-Bird convertible.
1st car at college.
He was a fun car.
The Damascus Toad, a '62 Dodge with headlights set at 45 degree angles.
He looked like a toad with bifocals - an unfortunate amphibian in the nearby ditch when Paul got his brilliant, eye-damaging epiphany.
A name does something special to things.
To people, too.
TechnoBoy's name means "laughter" and the DAGU's name means "source of delight" - and they have wonderfully injected our lives with both.
A name carries something very real.
I guess that's why, some day, He's gonna give me and you very special names.
Written on a white rock.
A name only He and I will know.
That you and Him will know.
A very special name.
For a very special relationship.
But only if we are His.
Only if we belong to Him.
Yeah. Makes sense, eh?
I don't think many people would call an unknown Taurus "Phlegm".