Vacation season seems to be in full swing now that the kids are out of school and their parents are thinking longingly of a series of days where there are no alarm clocks, no job pressures, and no telephones. With the advent of the cell phone, no phones is just a distant memory but the rest is still an achievable dream. Nothing soothes the soul and the brain like escaping from the work world into the retreat of summer vacation. Little did we realize as children how valued those summer vacation months would become when they were no longer available. Didn't we all, by early August, constantly whine that there was nothing to do during that long hiatus from school and studies? There is an old saying that youth is wasted on the young and I think it may apply in the case of summer vacation. Maybe we should have 2 weeks of vacation to use per year when we are young and the long, wonderful almost 3 months that our children get when we are old enough to appreciate and enjoy them. Somehow though, I doubt our employers would find this concept acceptable in business...ah well, one can dream.
Our family has taken many vacations in the past, some more outstanding than others. We tend to be just a bit off-beat, whether by nature or circumstance. My husband and I plan vacations with all the best of intentions, but sometimes, without warning, circumstance rears it's head and our plans are tossed and turned to the point where the original concept can be completely lost. There is one such vacation trip that defies any explanation except that it happened and tends to be repeated amidst much laughter at least once a year.
My husband, once a huge country music fan, read about this great country music festival just outside Wheeling West Virgina and immediately began planning all the details of our family attending this grand event. At the time we had 2 children, our youngest was still a gleam in her father's eye, and this seemed a perfect adventure. The only problem we had was that unless we wanted to drive from Maryland to West Virginia by car and stay in a hotel, we would need transportation more accomodating to the outdoorsy nature of this event. The concept of the 3 day event was to camp on or near the main event area so that music could be enjoyed at all hours of the day and night and one could practically walk to the main stage area when a particular favorite performer was on or retire to your camper for a nap or a meal when you weren't too interested in whoever was on stage.
After examining all the available options, my husband went to our favorite local Ford dealer with whom we and our company had done quite a bit of business over the years. This dealership has just begun renting motorhomes of various sizes and the idea of renting a vehicle of this nature was the answer to our our quandry. What could be better than a self-contained unit while traveling and camping with children. After all, it had a bathroom, a bed, a refrigerator and even a television. All we had to do was drive it to the site, park in a place of our choice and enjoy all the comforts of home. If there was no electric hookup, we had a generator, and since it was the heart of the summer, air conditioning was especially appealing. So we rented an RV, loaded up the kids and supplies, and with brochure and directions in hand, off we went to Jamboree in the Hills.
The trip to Wheeling was pretty much uneventful, traffic moving at a good pace, the children content, and thoughts of a relaxing weekend dancing in our heads. Being the co-pilot, it was my job to read the travel directions to my husband as we neared Wheeling and we followed the printed directions in the brochure to the letter. As we approached the exit we were to take, we were smugly confident that we would soon be among the thousands who had made this same pilgrammage to enjoy our favorite performers. Little did we know, the adventure had just begun.
Following the directions, we took the appropriate exit, went slowly around a curve, through a short tunnel and came out at the beginning of a bridge. Ordinarily that wouldn't have been a problem except the sign on the bridge approach warned that the bridge was just over nine and a half feet high. As my husband hastily applied the brakes, I rechecked the brochure directions noting no mention of a low bridge and my husband hastily looked for some marking on the RV to indicate it's height. The most unfortunate part of this bridge approach was that there was no way to not continue over the bridge from this point, so amidst much honking from the cars behind us, we ventured slowly forward. Holding our breath, my husband and I tried to will this RV to pass under the first crossmember of the bridge, inch by agonizing inch. Thinking we were home free as the largest part of the RV passed through without mishap, we were totally unprepared for the squealing, scaping noise that filled the entire space of our vehicle. Mindless of the traffic behind us, my husband stopped the RV and jumped out to assess the damage. Satisfied that we had only barely scraped the top of the air conditioning unit, we again proceeded cautiously forward.
Moving at less than a snail's pace, we noticed this elderly couple walking along the pedestrian walk along the bridge pointing and trying to get our attention. Satisfied that the worst was over, my husband smiled and waved back at the couple and....Thunk, Bang, Kaboom!!!! It seems the other end of the bridge was lower yet!! As we sheared the AC unit off the top of the rented RV, the kids were happily shouting about the convertible roof that had suddenly opened up. We pulled off into a parking area just past the end of the bridge so my husband could retrieve the AC unit that had landed in the middle of the bridge. Thinking he would place it inside the RV to hopefully be reattched at some point, you can imagine my dismay when, with a mighty heave and a string of expletives that would cause any sailor to blush, he threw the AC unit off the bridge into the water below. Knowing that once he calmed down, sanity would again overtake his brain and he would realize that perhaps tossing this piece of the RV overboard wasn't quite the appropriate action, I watched as he fumed and cursed and paced for the better part of 10 minutes. Finally, his frustration spent, he entered the RV and collapsed quietly into the driver's seat. The children peeked out from behind the bedroom door and after a few tense moments, decided it was safe to come closer.
So here we were, only miles from our destination, with a newly renovated RV sitting in a parking lot quietly contemplating our next move. Deciding to continue on to the Jamboree, we poured over the map and the written directions and satisfied that there were no more obstacles in our path, we started off again. We finally arrived at the RV parking area, chose a spot and set up camp. The setting for the Jamboree included a large stage and seating area, concessions and some shaded areas. The RV lot unfortunatley had none of these amenities, especially trees and shade. With the AC unit missing in action, we were left with a rather large opening in the roof which became an open invitation to all manner of flying insect. Falling back on his boyscout training, my husband came up with what we considered a workable solution. He grabbed a large black trash bag, affixed it as firmly as possible to the roof and Voila!, problem solved. Granted we had no air conditioning but heck, we had food, water and each other. Besides, we were on vacation!
The Jamboree lived up to it's advertising as we listened and danced along to our favorite country songs. We were thrilled to be watching live performances by the likes of the Oakridge Boys, Tanya Tucker, George Jones and many other stars of the times. Surrounded by thousands of other fans, we sweltered in the hot sun, downing soda and water by the gallons. There were ways to cool off even without AC as it seemed just about everyone had large plastic sprayers like the kind used in gardening filled with water and indiscriminately sprayed anyone and everyone that they walked by. The organizers of this festival had also had the foresight to employ security guards equipped with these same sprayers as well as several fire trucks that periodically sprayed the entire crowd. Although initially annoyed by this constant onslaught of water bearers, I quickly realized that the purpose was to help keep us cooled down so we could avoid trips to the First Aid tent.
The 3 day festival went quickly, and despite the heat, we concluded that a good time was had by all. The last night of the Jamboree though, there was a large thunderstorm that dumped several inches of water quickly on both audience and participants. Already having spent several days in a constant state of wetness, the rain wasn't too much of a deterent. So we stayed until the last performer took a bow and the last notes of song had faded away. Gathering up our soggy belongings, we made our way to the RV for a good night's rest and an early start to our trip home. Deep in conversation about the great acts we had seen, my husband and I had not given any thought at all to our makeshift sunroof cover until we walked through the door and turned on the light. Hanging down through the hole in the roof was that black trashbag, exposing the RV to the elements. Needless to say, the carpet and furniture in that area were a little the worse for wear. Mopping up what water we could and reaffixing a new trash bag, doubled this time for extra strength, we checked our sleeping quarters, thankful the beds were still dry and settled in for the night.
The new cover held for the entire trip home, and without further mishap we pulled into our driveway late that evening. Thankful to be home and dry again, I unlocked the front door and just stood there enjoying the blessed cool air inside. Unloading our belongings from the rented RV, we soon had to face the reality of the condition of this vehicle. How do you explain the disappearance of an AC unit and the dampness pervading the carpeting? Lucky for me, this was left to my husband to figure out since he was the one who had to return it to the dealership the next day.
As he tells it now, he pulled nonchalantly into the Ford parking lot and went inside to return the keys to the manager. When asked how the trip went and how the RV performed, he assured the manager that the trip was good and the RV only had one small malfunction. As the manager inquired what the problem was, my husband, without skipping a beat, politely suggested that perhaps the RV should have had an AC unit on it's roof. Running outside and quickly climbing into the RV, the manager's jaw hit the floor with a resounding THUD! as he looked up at the now uncovered hole in the roof. The manager slowly exited the RV and stared speechlessly at my husband not even able to utter the beginnings of the multitude of questions forming in his mind. My husband handed him the keys and said "You wouldn't believe it so just send me a bill and keep this to yourself". Several hundred dollars later, this vacation went down into the annals of history and became just another funny story.
The Ford dealership apparently didn't quite see the humor in the situation and shortly afterwards stopped renting RV's. Guess they just didn't think a convertible RV was an idea that would catch on.

Judging by the glut of tv and print ads these days, it would appear that choosing the perfect mattress has become an obsession in our culture. What used to be a simple choice of twin or full and soft or firm has evolved into such a complication of sizes, firmness, type of material and whatever fills the mattress that one almost needs to take at least several courses in mattress education to have any hope of being able to choose one that might serve the purpose.
Mattress 101 would cover size I think. After all you would have to keep in mind the dimensions of the room the mattress occupies as well as whether to allow sufficient space to walk around the bed rather than climb over it to reach the other side. Then of course there is the decision of adding other furniture to the room such as bureaus, dressers and nightstands. One could probably do without the nightstand or even the dresser but I would think at least one bureau would be essential unless your clothes also have a room of their own. So here we have to choose between twin (not bad if you sleep alone & don't move much), full ( a better option yet, even for one person), queen which is great unless you're taller than the average person or my personal favorite, the King size. King allows for all manner of sleeping positions, sharing the bed with a partner or your favorite pet, or both, and less possibility of getting shoved off the edge of the bed in the middle of the night. So, Mattress 101 is an easy course for most of us.
However, on to the advanced class in choosing the type of mattress. The sheer numbers would make even a PHD hold his head in agony. Not only do you need to decide on firmness which seems to come in as many choices as the population of a small town, you also have to figure out whether to go with the usual mattress filling or water or air or foam that molds to the body. Then there are the manmade fillers, the natural fillers such as down feathers, and add to that the pillow top or springs, heated or unheated and on and on and on........Excedrin please!!!
The advent of the waterbed wasn't too difficult. You chose regular, meaning constant sloshing as if on a rough sea or the waveless which only moved for a short time after you were settled. Heat was preferable unless you were fond of sleeping on a block of ice. The only drawback to a waterbed was if by some stroke of bad luck the bed developed a leak. You could awaken thinking you possibly didn't quite make it to the bathroom soon enough if the leak was small or you could be wishing for an ark to rescue you if it all gushed out at once. The latter could cause extreme discord with your downstairs neighbors if you happened to live in an apartment. I assume this particular problem occured on a regular enough basis since many apartments banned waterbeds from all but the bottom floor apartments.
The air bed seems to be gaining in popularity since each side of the bed can be adjusted to suit it's occupant. One person may enjoy sleeping on something resembling an overfilled balloon while their partner prefers something more marshmallow like. Although it does seem possible that the marshmallow person could get crushed in the middle of the night if the other guy falls off his balloon. My husband and I chose the air mattress in King size of course and luckily we tend to keep our levels close enough to avoid a middle of the night 911 call. This particular type of air mattress has air chambers in what resembles a regular mattress with air hoses and a pump attached to the upper end. The remote control makes adjusting easy unless you happen to hit the wrong button and inflate or deflate the other side of the mattress. Well, how can you tell if left and right refers to when you're laying down or just facing the bed...it's a common mistake don't you think?
The newest thing out is the space age foam type of mattress that is supposed to conform to each person's contours when they lay down. This brings to mind pictures of laying on a giant sack filled with jello that oozes into spaces that ordinarily don't lay flat when you do. I wonder if this conforming foam poses any particular problem when couples attempt to do what couples tend to like to do. Think I'll leave that up to the imagination of the reader.
By the time one does all the research and travels to a variety of mattress stores to lay on every mattress type available, someone will have come out with another new mattress and we'll have to start all over again. And, after all this strenuous study, we're likely to just go home and collapse on our old double bed, firm mattress and sleep just as soundly.
All this makes one wonder if perhaps it's easier to decide on which new car or which house to buy than it is to choose the perfect mattress. Maybe I'll just lay on the couch and forget the whole thing.

Our soon-to-be five year old grandson is a bright, beautiful, loving child, all boy for sure yet with a sweetness that at times can melt the hardest heart. He's always been an active toddler and like many children found it difficult to sit still for long. It wasn't until about 2 years ago that we began to realize that he was showing signs of hyperactivity and, to our distress, an aggressive and unpredictable nature. In the course of a short period of time, we could watch as he went from being almost over-the-top "up" only to plummet quickly to an extreme low. Normal temper tantrums escalated to him physically attacking people, throwing whatever he could reach, screaming threats of bodily harm and an increase in physical strength well out of proportion to his size. Having held him as tightly as possible during one of these episodes to protect both him and whoever his target was at the time, I can attest to the magnitude of of the storm raging inside this small boy. It is without a doubt, the most draining, unworldly thing a grandparent can experience as you watch this cloud consume the bright eyes and mind of a child until the rage subsides and the child collapes in your arms sobbing from the experience.
Thanks to determined family, concerned medical personnel and the grace of God, it was finally determined that he was both bipolar and ADHD. This diagnosis was as foreign a concept to our family as any that could have been made. His mother, prepared for the ADHD pronouncement, was shocked into total disbelief and denial by the bipolar component. It seemed absolutely impossible that something like this could afflict any child in our family. We had been blessed by healthy, happy children and naturally expected our grandchildren to be afforded the same type of life. So it was, with a heavy heart, we began our efforts to gain as much insight into his disorder and ways to help him as humanly possible. The internet proved a neverending source of information and support, starting with bpkids and branching out to other informational and support sites. My daughter devoted countless hours to learning about medication and coping mechanisms and has become a self-taught expert on this condition. Although only 19 when her son was born, she quickly developed the insight and devotion necessary to doing whatever it might take to ease her son's suffering and guide him to places and people that could help.
One such place is a wonderful school in Baltimore The Children's Guild that we were fortunate enough to have available in our area, and with much help from a group of very special people our grandson was able to gain admittance to this marvellous school. As he happily boards his big yellow school bus each morning, we know that not only is he getting the education he deserves, he's also getting the attention and therapy necessary to ensure that he is equipped with all the knowledge of how to cope with and understand his condition that will give him a happy, healthy life.
All of these thoughts have been passing through my mind lately due to a very special and unexpected happening in my office on Friday. My daughter was helping out in the office and a very nice, elderly gentleman came in to ask if we had a scrap piece of pipe he could purchase. He apparently wanted to slowly curve a piece of wood for his boat railing and needed the pipe to act as a kind of sweat chamber to soften the wood. We always have a barrel of scrap pieces of many kinds of pipe in our warehouse so I took him back into that area and we found a piece that would serve his purpose. When he asked me the cost, I told him to please jsut take it at no charge, after all it was only scrap. He smiled and said "In that case, I have something for you too." Not knowing what to expect, I went back into the office as he went out to his car. Several minutes later, he reappeared and handed me a delightful looking children's book with pictures of whales on the cover entitled Tailey Whaley As I thanked him he said "I didn't draw the pictures but I did write the book". As I stood there stunned, I noticed that he had taken the time to autograph the inside. When he asked if I had anyone to give the book to, I spoke of my 5 wonderful grandchildren, all the while looking through the book. As we chatted I read the summary of the story about a whale that had been born with an extremely large tail and was consistently teased and tormented by his peers. Because he was different, the other whales could not easily accept him, but with the help of his mother and a series of wonderful events, he was accepted for who he was. The moral of the story seemed to be that everyone is different in some way and all true friends are special treasures.
This story seemed so fitting for our "special treasure" and I decided that our 5 year old grandson would be the recipient of this grand surprise. As Charles Boyle, the author, sat down and inscribed this book to our grandson, both my daughter and I were fighting the tears welling up in our eyes at this sweet gesture from a complete stranger. And as he was given the book that evening, our grandson immediately recognized the whales and with total delight, he saw the inscription including his name. "Mommy, it has my name in it!" he squealed with happiness. The book now occupies a special place reserved for only a few well-loved books and will be treasured for a long time to come. Little does he realize at his tender age that this book is indeed about him and will serve to illustrate that anything is possible as long as you believe in yourself.
Thank you Mr. Boyle and all my love to my little buddy.

My sister Nancy recently published an article on her site the gardensgift relating a conversation she and I began a couple of weeks ago. My husband and I recently purchased a wonderful manufactured home in Palm Harbor Florida with much help from my sister and her husband Harlan. Having our own place in Florida has long been a dream of mine as I find myself able to totally relax when I'm there. I attribute this to a combination of palm trees, sunshine, and some very special friends who also happen to be family. This home of ours is a light, cozy place that my sister originally found for her mother-in-law, and to our good fortune, we were able to purchase it when Nancy's mother-in-law decided to return home to Maryland. The moment I set foot through the front door I knew this was meant to be our Florida home and my instinct was reinforced when my husband took a quick trip to Palm Harbor and immediately felt the same way when he entered the house.
So, my husband Doug and I worked feverishly to get all the elements necessary lined up to make the final purchase and, the first weekend of June, we landed in Tampa with much anticipation. Although it was past 11:00 at night when we arrived at our new home, we turned all the lights on, checked every nook and cranny, and delighted with our upcoming purchase, we decided it was time for a toast. My wonderful brother-in-law Harlan had provided all the ingredients for our favorite cocktails so as Doug began to mix the drinks, I opened the refrigerator........lo and behold, Harlan had chilled 2 cocktail glasses in anticipation of our late arrival. This sweet personal touch meant more than I can describe and as we toasted our purchase and our life together we naturally included all those that we dearly love, thankful to be fortunate to have the family and friends in our lives that we do.
The next day Nancy and Harlan arrived to finalize the paperwork on the house and, as we tend to do any time we're together, Nancy and I were chatting as we fondly observed our respective husbands. My husband, though a thoughtful, loving person, is not exactly the neatest person I've ever met. I give him credit for trying to clean up after himself but I've come to realize after almost 30 years that there are certain disparities between men and women when it comes to keeping house. A man's idea of neat and clean basically involves having the covers pulled up on the bed, the dishes, if not washed, at least piled in the sink, and the lights turned low so you don't notice the dust. I tend to be just a bit more particular...especially when it comes to open drawers and cabinets and lights and televisions on in rooms with no human occupants. Having observed several males in my life I have come to the conclusion that the gene that regulates thoughts of opposites in males has mutated to the point of being pratically non-exsistent.
Although I'm sure there are exceptions to every rule, it appears that when a guy closes a drawer, it's usually done with a quick flip of the wrist or a nudge with the hip or better yet, a backward kick of the foot. The end result is usually a drawer that is either not completely closed, or, depending on the kicking distance, a drawer that pops open even further than it was when they started. The only logical conclusion is that most aspects of a male's life tend to be sports oriented. so all things are approached as a game. Two points for landing the clothes in the hamper from a foot and three points if it's across the room. Televisions and radios, though are a totally different matter. "On" is easy, "Off" must be a concept that just does not compute. Although I find it difficult to leave the house with the TV on or the radio blaring, my husband can walk out of a room knowing he's not going back in there anytime soon and not notice the noise or flickering light in the background as he shuts the door behind him. I have returned home on occassion after Doug has been home and then left again to find my dogs contentedly perched on the couch watching the evening news. Our parrot George also must like loud classic rock since he listens to it on a regular basis. I remember when Doug installed outside speakers so we could have music when we were on the deck. It was a nice concept until I got a call at 2 a.m. from my neighbor who apparently couldn't sleep because the radio had been playing all night.
So as Nancy and I were discussing this phenomenon of male antioppositeness, we began to compare notes. It seems she also has inherited the clear cut opposite gene that I have. Doors and drawers should be closed completely, lights should be turned off when noone is in the room, the TV should have an audience other than animals or plants. And the funny thing is, no matter how much time we spend trailing along behind our guys closing drawers and turning things off, we wouldn't trade them for the world.

Once again I have to credit my favorite radio station WPOC in Baltimore with sharing more funny stories on their morning show. Laurie DeYoung comes up with some of the most outrageously funny stories that I find myself laughing out loud while driving to work. Not long ago the subject was unusual weddings. The concept involved men whose "best man" was a woman and evolved from there. My youngest daughter's wedding would easily fit into this unusual category. She had asked me (her Mom) to be her matron of honor and naturally I readily agreed. My husband thought it was kind of odd but as I explained to him, I was so touched by the request that I would never have dreamed of discouraging the idea. I did feel a little sorry for the pastor on the rehearsal night though. Apparently he had never had a situation where the Mother of the bride was also the matron of honor and it made for some interesting moments as he tried to work out the logistics of the ceremony. First I would walk down the aisle with one of the groomsmen and join with the groom's Mother to light the candles on the altar. As she returned to her seat, I would make a hasty retreat down the side aisle, through the back door, and resume my place in line with the best man. During the rehearsal there were many jokes about the expressions on the faces of the invited guests when I suddenly left the room before the bride had even arrived. Although a few close friends knew I was doing double duty, I envisioned the rest of the guests thinking I either couldn't face the thought of my daughter getting married or perhaps I had some strange digestive problem that forced me to run quickly to the nearest ladies room. The wedding the next day was beautiful and even though I got a lot of strange looks when I took off down the side aisle, all became clear when I reappeared as a part of the wedding party.
So when Laurie DeYoung brought up the subject of odd wedding parties, I could easily relate. The best story in this category topped my daughter's wedding and was just about the strangest wedding I had ever heard of. It seems the groom in the wedding had his ex-wife give him away and her boyfriend was his best man. The idea of the ex-wife giving away her ex-husband struck me as a rather good thought. Heck, I always thought that after a divorce there should be a big party and the wedding ceremony should be done in reverse, starting with the "I don't"'s and ending with everyone yelling out "Don't do it" when asked if anyone objected. Back to this particular wedding though, it seems that the newleyweds and the ex-wife & her boyfriend were such good friends that they all went on the honeymoon together. Now that is just a tad strange!
This story reminded me of a couple my husband & I met on a cruise a few years ago. Nancy and her boyfriend were from Pennsylvania and we spent many fun hours with them on and off the ship. As we got to know them better, Nancy began to relate their story. Nancy and her husband owned a flooring company and her boyfriend worked for them which was how they met. After some time, Nancy left her husband and moved in with the boyfriend and both continued working with Nancy's husband. This seemed rather awkward to me but as I learned more, I just shook my head in bewilderment. Not only were Nancy and her boyfriend on this cruise, but her ex-husband and his new wife were on the ship along with Nancy's daughter! Imagine my hesitation when the ex-husband, his wife and the little girl showed up next to the four of us at poolside one day. Not knowing what to expect, I just held my breath for a moment hoping there wouldn't be a problem. Nancy proceed to introduce us to everyone, the little girl ran off to the pool and the six of us grabbed a cocktail and spent several hours chatting. We ran into the ex several times and it never ceased to amaze me that they were all totally comfortable with their arrangement. Now, although I also have an ex-husband, I can't possibly imagine vacationing or honeymooning with him. Maybe it's me, but I find the whole idea of paling around with an ex just about the last thought I would ever entertain. Come to think of it, maybe the story on the radio WAS Nancy's story.

My favorite radio station aired an interesting story last week that generated both discussions and laughter. It seems this couple had been happily married for several years and had recently had their first child. What should have been a joyous occassion immediately became the exact opposite when the husband, totally horrified, declared this child the ugliest baby he had ever seen. Since both he and his wife were reasonably nice looking, his immediate thought was that his wife must have had an affair with a most unattractive person. The husband confronted his wife but was totally unprepared for her admission that she had not had an affair.....she had hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of plastic surgery several years before they met. Hundreds of thousands of dollars of surgery ?!!! By the time she met her husband she must have been more plastic than Barbie! Although the great philosphers always say "Love is blind", this wasn't so in this husband's case. Not only did he file for divorce, he sued her for misrepresentation.
Now, one of my first thoughts after hearing this was, unless this woman landed here from some far away planet or was in the witness protection program, wouldn't it stand to reason that her husband had either met someone from her family or at least seen pictures of relatives in the years they had been together. Besides, unless she resembled Quasimoto on his worst day, how bad could she have looked? And I also wondered how far back into his own family history this man had looked. It could be possible that some of his ancestors were less than pleasing to look at.
So the discussion among the morning DJ's revolved around how obligated partners are to divulge personal information to their prospective mates. Granted, it may have come as a shock to find out how much the wife had done to change her looks but should she have told her husband before marriage? Some felt that the information was important enough to have had an effect on the man's decision to marry her or at least consider having children with her. Others thought that since beauty is a superficial thing, perhaps the man should have been able to get past her changing her appearance and still been able to love her for who she was instead of what she looked like.
One DJ seemed to have a good handle on the situation though. He compared this problem to buying a used car you fell in love with and after having it for a while, you found out it had a major problem. As he said " After all, if you still loved the car, you'd just fix the problem and keep the car anyway". Seems reasonable to me. But I guess in the material world we live in, it's as easy to trade wives in as it is cars, especially when the shine wears off and the engine starts to knock.