Alas, poor T-Hoe. I knew him when he could see well. Now he’s as mono-ocular as a Cyclops. The left window to his soul has ceased to bring enlightenment to his driver. It has become a useless as antique glass in a second story window lead-painted shut and lined with yellowed newspapers.
It seems like only several months ago that T-Hoe had his cataracts removed. And now he’s half-blind!
Monday morning, my mom met me on the school parking lot so I could give her some chili and leftover fried rice and used tabloids. Because that’s what a good five-dollar daughter does.
“You know you have a headlight out, don’t you?”
Hmpf! What kind of scofflaw does she take me for? Of course I didn’t know that. You’d think I was one of those scofflaws who’d drive around without a passenger-side mirror for three months!
When I got inside the school building, high-stepping across the hall lest any snake/lizard/salamander/newts had set up shop outside my door over the weekend, I sent Hick a text.
“My left headlight is out.”
My Sweet Baboo sent back a message immediately, because he doesn’t work, it seems, but sits around searching for Coca Cola memorabilia on the employer’s internet.
“I’ll pick one up after work if they have it, but I might have to order one.”
You’d think I drove a Delorean, Edsel, Pacer, or Model T, what with there never seeming to be available parts for a 2008 Tahoe. I called Hick after work to clarify the parts status.
“I ordered a headlight. Well. I’m GOING TO order one tomorrow. I want to make sure of the numbers. They’re in a book over in the BARn.”
“How long will it take to get one? I don’t want to get stopped for having a light out.”
“Well I can’t poop one out of my butt, Val!” That Hick. He sure can turn a phrase.
“I was only asking how long I would have to evade the police. Because those running lights are on in the daytime, and they’ll see me.”
“It might take up to three days. Those are not standard headlights. I put in different ones when the originals fogged up and I couldn’t get them unfogged. I’ll put on of the old foggy ones in until we get the new one.”
My Sweet Baboo. Rockin' the irregular auto parts like a champ!