Val Eschews the Lagging Glass

Remember when Val was one of THOSE PEOPLE who work on their car on the Walmart parking lot? Well...Val is STILL one of those people, but she moved her repairs to the Menard's parking lot, and she now has accomplices.

With The Pony home for such a short interlude (and lucky to be home at all), Hick decided that we should take him out to dinner. You know. Because a Thanksgiving meal that took two days to prepare was not special enough for him. Hick took him to a Chinese buffet on Friday afternoon, and then asked him where he wanted to go for dinner Saturday night.

Yes, Val is VALiantly strapping on the feedbag and plowing through those Thanksgiving leftovers by herself while Hick and The Pony shun them like...uh...like...food that was prepared by Val! At least Genius loaded up a cooler full of turkey and ham and deviled eggs and roasted vegetables and 7 layer salad and Sister Schubert's rolls and bacon-wrapped green bean bundles and assorted sliced cheeses and black olives. He left behind a large pan of hash brown casserole (of which Val had made a WHOLE EXTRA ONE for him to take back) because his housemate buddy's sister had prepared a pan just for the buddy to take back to their college house. No word on what the other four guys might have stashed in their hobo bindle to share around the campfire.

Anyhoo...The Pony said he wanted steak. There's a Colton's over in bill-paying town, so Hick decreed that we were going. The Pony made plans with some high school scholar bowl associates (who are a year older than him) to go on a hike Saturday morning. At least they didn't have him hunting snipe. He left at 10:00 a.m. in a temperature of 39 degrees, having reluctantly agreed to wear some pants I found in the laundry room, having only brought home shorts and t-shirts in his wardrobe. He got home around 4:20. The irony of that time was not lost on The Pony, since Val took it upon herself to enlighten him before he left for college. I couldn't send my little Pony out into the world unprepared.

We left immediately for Colton's, in an effort to avoid the Saturday night rush. We got there at 4:53, but we were not successful. Seems that folks around here go out for supper earlier than septuagenarians on the Branson strip. Earlier than Morty and Helen with Doris and Jack Klompus at Del Boca Vista. The waiting area was packed. The only seat left was the little saddle on a stand. Let the record show that none of us took it. After waiting about 30 minutes, we were seated and served (excellently, I might add).

When we returned to the parking lot, we saw that a beat-up pickup truck (but who is VAL to disparage a vehicle lately) was parked at an angle right next to us, preventing The Pony from opening T-Hoe's door for his seat behind Ol' Sweavin' Hick. He walked around to the passenger side to use that door and slide across to his seat. T-Hoe has bucket seats in the second row. We keep that passenger side seat folded down, so I can see out the back windows when pulling out, and to set things on. The Pony had just crossed that seat and leaned over to close the door. As I opened my door, I heard a

CLUNK!

"Huh. The window just dropped down as far as it will go. And I didn't even slam the door!"

That is correct. I all the time got onto The Pony for slamming the front passenger door. Which wasn't often, because he mostly sat behind me. But when he did, there was a terrible rattle. In fact, I used to ask him if he was trying to break out the window.

Hick tried the button, but that window wasn't moving. So he backed up and started driving! That's right. It was 46 degrees, dark, and we had 20 miles to go, most of it on the highway.

"Are you just driving home with the window down?"

"I don't know what you want me to do, Val. I can't take it apart here."

"Well, there must be something you can do."

Hick drove down the street behind the steak house, and turned onto the Menard's parking lot. There he went past about 20 spaces saying there was nowhere to park. There WAS! Everybody was eating at Colton's, not shopping at Menard's. He settled on taking up FOUR spaces right under a light. Uh huh. To make sure everyone could see Val, I'm sure. She had, after all, encountered someone she knew while waiting for a seat from which to eat steak. In addition, the dome light stayed on while Hick and The Pony wrestled the glass of that window. AND some weirdo pulled in and parked right next to us, even though there were many, many spaces available. We weren't even near the door!

Hick tried several fixes, none of which were a success. That's a story for tomorrow. With photos! We made it home with The Pony sitting on the seat behind me, leaning on the window to hold it up. He's a loyal workhorse, that Pony.

Next time you see one of THOSE PEOPLE trying to repair a car on a store parking lot...give a little nod. It just might be Val.