Seeing and smelling the roses

Most of the time, I enjoy taking my time. When I’m driving, I like making good time. Unfortunately, as great as Dirk is  – affordable, practical, sleek, low maintenance – he, like me, takes his time getting going. When I am driving Dirk, I can both see and smell the roses. When I drive my other car, which takes zero time to get going, I don’t even know roses exist. I must admit, I prefer Dirk and the roses.

Oreggano is also like Dirk, which I appreciate, because I know I can call on her anytime that I want to grab coffee, have a glass of wine, or anything else that keeps me from doing things I don’t want to do. Being that it was Administrative Assistant day, I decided to take the morning off and have coffee with her. I figure I make my own copies, file my own papers and take my own calls, so that makes me my own administrative assistant.

Oreggano is also her own Administrative Assistant, so it was a lovely celebration of ourselves. We got our coffee, took Indigo to the dog park and, while he was busy smelling other dogs’ butts, we were busy smelling the roses.

Afterward, Dirk and I made our way to the office. As I was driving along, seeing and smelling the roses, I was passed by a guy in a souped up third generation Chevy Nova Coupe. His car was almost forty years older than Dirk and clearly had more juice in the engine, but Dirk probably averaged about 30 miles more to the gallon. And, as fast as the old Nov could go, the guy had to signal with his cigarette. “Lame,” I thought to myself as he passed me by, “I would never signal with a cigarette, especially in a sweet ride like that. I’d signal with a pimp stick.”

And then, I looked at my speedometer and had another thought, “If I hadn’t already named him Dirk, I would name him Hagar. Son of a bitch can’t drive 55, literally. Time to move over to the slow lane, throw on some Simon & Garfunkel, and put those roses in a vase.”