that was the sound of my front, left tire as i “turned” right into a chevron station yesterday.

in my version of this story the curb had spiky, protracting thorns which vehemently besieged my exemplary, mother theresa like, clean-air giving prius.

the meth-addicted witness, he was 7, said i was going “kinda fast.”  little, lying loser.

panicking, for it hasn’t been but 4 days since my prius has returned from its last visit to the body shop, an unfortunate event involving the garage, the right passenger door, something shiny, and my eyes looking left instead of forward; my offer to take a time out in jones’ dog crate upon delivering the news to hunkiest did help soften last week’s blow, but with my low-back still sore from that night in the crate, i wasn’t in any kind of shape to crawl back in. 

90 minutes later and two razzle-berry slurpee’s down my hatch, help arrived in the form of a blue-eyed, heavy on the accent, strong on the sweetness roadside service. sage came to my rescue in black gloves, shiny, gelled hair, with equipment as pristine and state-of-the-art as the mars rover. 

he got to work right away. speedy and polite beyond emily post.

don’t think i didn’t blast coolio on my ipod as we pumped this mutha out! sage obliged my inner hood rat {i told you he was sweet as pie,} and bounced the prius on the jack stand in beat to the music, as i hip-shimmied to fantastic voyage…….

have a listen.

after dancing we got back to business. i had classes to teach. sage had other damsels in derangement, and my spare tire was slowly melting in the summer heat. 

whipping out what looked to be his crucifix {see mom, i remember some stuff from church?} sage plugged his cross into my spare, spun it around enough times for me to recite the apostles creed, and i assume god took over the rest.

i might get my religious facts bobbled up here and there, but yesterday i’m quite clear this is what an angel looked like. 

thank you sage for the dance, the courtesy, and the tire change. 

wednesday happy to you m’loves.