Posts tagged ‘Automobile’

Road Signs

Have you noticed all the different signs around town? True, more than one sign is strictly advertisements — periodically they are interesting.

One can’t help but notice the flashing neon sign on Madison near the Greenwood Shopping Mall. More than a few letters are gone. It blinks “quor” instead of advertising the establishment sells Liquor.

Did you happen to see the portable marquee sign on Meridian? “Tina, I love you – please come back.”   I wonder what ever happened to Tina.

The canopy sign outside of Fazoli’s advertised: All you “care to eat for $2.99”. I took my nephews and couldn’t help but notice they took the sign down the next day.  

Within a few blocks of the Shopping Mall, there is a deer crossing sign. True, plenty of deer cross a highway causing more than one accident. But honestly, have you ever seen a deer cross at where the signs are?

More than a few banks have electronic signs giving the date, time and temperature.   However; when it is 93 degrees outside, who needs to read a sign to know it’s hot.

There is a stop sign on Main Street in Greenwood that obviously doesn’t mean stop. More often than not when the cars come up to the street they roll right through.   I got a ticket there once. Now I stop.

By far my favorite sign is the billboard on I-65. As you head south toward Columbus you can’t miss it.   “Tattoos While You Wait”   Well, I would certainly hope so.







April 11, 2017 at 2:05 pm 1 comment

Return of the Snowbirds


imagesMy Aunt Sharon and Uncle Steven should return to Greenwood soon.  They are the family snowbirds. Just like our feathered friends, with the first signs of spring, they return.

“Snowbirds,” just like many actual birds, leave Indiana for the winter, but come back home in the spring.

Aunt Sharon and Uncle Steven have spent the winter in Lake Havasu, Arizona.  They have made friends in Arizona yet they always return to Indiana in the spring.

My husband never fails to mention them when he is out shoveling snow or scraping the ice on the car windows.  Uncle Steven also manages to call late night when it is bitter cold here – just to mention that he has his windows open and is enjoying the evening air.

Some people call them lucky.  These individuals who can migrate away from the cold.  They never have to put their summer clothes away, or purchase a new winter coat.  They never have to worry about which boots to wear just to go to the mailbox.  They spend the winter working on their tan.

By spending the winters in the warmer climate, snowbirds don’t have to deal with icy roads, shoveling their walks, falling on the ice and all of the other winter hazards.

They have a good reason for coming back – it’s home!  If they had to call any one place in the world home, Indiana would be it.  They have their home here and their family.

The neighbors and family watch the house for them.  Snowbirds aren’t just sunny day friends.  They do miss Indiana, but not quite enough to brave the cold and snow.

Basically,  they  escape from  the  hard cold  during the winter  and  it is beautiful  in Arizona.

Within a few weeks you can see the snowbirds flying (or driving) back to Indiana.  You can be sure winter is out of view.  Gone but not forgotten.






March 3, 2016 at 3:26 pm Leave a comment

One Flat Tire


A blonde lady might be intimated by an automobile flat tire, but not me. I’m the blonde with dark roots you remember.  I also know my father taught me how to make simple repairs.  True, that was more years ago than I care to remember, but the basic survival instincts stay with you.

At first I did  look at  the flat tire in question  and thought, putting my hands on it,  maybe it’s just cold.   I’ll let the  sun warm it up  for  a couple hours and  see what happens.

“Knock it off,” I could hear my father say.  “Change the flat tire.”

Leaning back into the car, I pressed the trunk release button.  I wished I’d worn slacks, but was grateful that my shoes were flats and not heels.

I groaned out loud as I rummaged around in the trunk.  I knew the jack was nicely hidden behind something.  There I found a few assorted tools, chamois, a beach towel, road flares, and a tattered old blanket.  The tire would be under all this.

I would have a Firebird.   My father would be proud  that  I  was smart enough to keep the  locking lug nut  key taped to the spare tire.  Now  I  attempted to assemble  jack parts according to memory.    I issued a  fifteen  second  burst  of profanity.

I placed the jack under the fender and turned the handle to raise the car.  How long will it take to actually raise this car?  I continued turning the handle.  I issued a second set of profanity.

I picked up the lug wrench and fit it over the lug nut.  Who ever came up with the name ‘lug?’

I put counterclockwise pressure to the lug wrench until the nut loosened.  I applied all the force I had to the wrench, all the while questioning if I might hurt myself.   Sitting on the ground,  panting, issuing more  profanity: I  stared at the lug nuts.

Standing I put the wrench back on the lug nut and tried kicking it (the wrench) with my foot.  I felt something give.  I might have broken my toe.

“Hey, Little Lady.”  Concentrating on the flat tire I did not hear the man’s footsteps approaching around the car.  Stepping away from my car I could see a gold Chevy pickup truck parked behind my car.  I could hear a “Three Dog Night” song still playing.  There wasn’t a speck of dirt on the truck and the license plate read:  “It’s a 36”  

I hated being called Little Lady.  It unmistakably made me feel as though I was ten years old.  “I’m fine, thank you.” I said, rubbing my foot.  “I just have a flat tire.  I can fix it.”

“Well Little Lady, I only stopped because it looks like you could use some help.”

What was I doing?  A small part of me was indignant at being treated as though I was feeble minded, but even worse, I hate to admit that I was happy to be getting some help.  More than likely – this manly man – could finish replacing this tire long before I could have taken off these lug nuts. 

Pride is a difficult thing to swallow,  yet I said,  “Yes, I could  use some help.   Thank you.” 

He slid his hand in his trouser pocket.  He handed me his cell telephone.  “Here, you might want to call the garage on Main Street to come help – like you should have done in the first place.” 



October 5, 2015 at 1:04 pm Leave a comment

Blonde Lady With Dark Roots

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