It’s always shocking to find a note from the Coroner’s office stuck to your front door. I can only feign relief that I wasn’t home when the cops showed up to leave their dirty little message. Opening the door to two somber policemen conjures up thought of loved ones dying in a fiery freeway accident or sudden heart failure. Can’t they come up with a nicer way to tell people their loved ones have kicked the bucket? (Ahhh, but that’s a topic for another day!) It turns out; they were investigating a ’66 powder blue Cadillac that had been parked in an unnamed parking lot for too long. They figured the owner had died and it was time to gently break the news to the relatives… either that, or confront the perpetrators who had knocked off the poor sucker. It just so happens that I know the owner of said Caddy, and though he is alive and well, he may be a victim of domestic assault by the time I get my hands on him.
My darling husband acquired this monster car (which measures longer than a Suburban to give you a good visual) about ten years ago, for the pure whim of taking a road trip to Vegas. It has stayed with him (like a venereal disease) over the years and has traveled with him from home to home. And though he rarely drives it, it gets occasional use at weddings and for random photo shoots. His claim to fame is using the caddy for a swimsuit calendar. Somewhere behind the hot models is his beaming face behind the wheel. He reminds me that we both brought baggage to the marriage, I have two adorable children and he brought the beast…I mean the Cadillac. Fortunately, he has grown to love my kids but I have not felt any furthermore affinity for the gas guzzler that is now parked in my driveway.
Yes, in an effort to avoid towing, the Caddy came home and there it sits like a ginormous eyesore. Last night I told him an anonymous caller had complained to the association about the obnoxious car in our driveway. It took him a few seconds before he choked on his cashews and started chortling. Each night as I lay my head down on my pillow, I dream of it being stolen. Then again, after they fill up the tank with gas and die of shock, they will probably bring it right back, washed and cleaned and ready for the next photo-op.
66’ Convertible Caddy for Sale. All offers considered. Please contact Scrappy!
*Note* I first posted this eighteen months ago. What the heck people? I want my garage back now!