Saturday, January 8, 2011

The $2000 Fish Part 1

I have a Safe Driver Certificate.  I got it when I renewed my license a few years back.  And while most of you get that as a matter of course, I covet mine.  You see, I had a bad streak during the 90's .  I'm not going to go into chapter and verse concerning all of my accidents, suffice it to say that Bob's Body Shop had a shelf especially for me.  And on that shelf were the array of paints used on my vehicles over the years.  It's possible that I, singlehandedly, funded the first two years of Bob's son's college.  I'm not proud of that, it's just a fact I can't deny.

In 1991 I drove a burgundy Volvo 240 sedan.  Your typical utilitarian boxy style, it also had heated seats and a front end that screamed tough.  I loved that car.  In 1991, we also made our first (and last) foray into owning an aquarium.  We had grommies, sharks and a beautiful deep pink Betta with a plume of a tail.  I loved that Betta.

About a week after we got the Beta, it's tail, the once proud and fluttering plume, had begun to clump, resembling a greasy comb over.  And being a good pet owner, I called the pet shop owner uptown who told me to bring the fish in so they could make a proper diagnosis.  No problem, I thought.  I put the fish is a cup of water, put the baby in the car seat (located properly in the back seat), loaded Oldest Child (who I was going to drop off at preschool) in front and stopped to pick-up a neighbor boy who was in the preschool carpool.

Off we headed to town where I was going to make a quick stop at the pet store before heading to preschool.  So, Oldest Child being tallest, sat in front while Neighbor Boy held the fish in the back seat with the baby, safely belted, buckled, tied and otherwise tethered to the other seat in back.

I was sitting in the left turn lane at the intersection of Hwy 2 and Union St., waiting for the light to allow me to turn.  I am careful that way.  As the arrow appeared and I began the turn, Neighbor Boy, holding the fish yells, "Hey!  The fish jumped out!" at which point, I turned to look and ran smack into a car that was sitting at the stop light on Union. . . which was also in front of the police station and Union Street Station - take your pick, neither place invoked warm fuzzy feelings for me.

Upon realization that all of us in the car were fine, still belted and all limbs were accounted for, Neighbor Boy shakes his head and says, "Boy! Is your husband gonna kill YOU!"  Now, I'm thinking a thousand things at this point but the truth is, what I really wanted to know was why, if the fish jumped out, was it STILL IN THE CUP HELD TIGHTLY IN NEIGHBOR BOY'S LITTLE HAND!?

Stay tuned.  As the saga continues and I face my crime.


  1. Oh, no! I can feel your pain. Neighbor Boy sounds a lot like my grandson, The Boy. The Boy always means well, but somehow things have a way of blowing up in his face--and mine.

  2. I blame it on their lack of uniform chromosomes!

  3. So did Neighbor Boy grow up to be a politician?

  4. Thus proving that Volvo is the still the only car crash tested and approved for fish. Great story, Judi!