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Monday, October 8, 2012

The Goldwing and the Cat

Fall is in the air and hubby says it's time to put the Goldwing in storage for the winter. He is going to start winterizing it this week. It made me think back to a couple of Falls ago when I drove a mini-van that I could never park properly.

Our house is on a corner lot. There is a one car driveway in the front of the house where the garage is, which is mine and a two car driveway on the side, which is for hubby's toys.
One Saturday I left with our daughter to go to her dance classes and hubby stayed home to winterize the Goldwing so he could store it for the winter.

After dancing for two hours and trying to recover from a birthday party sleep-over, my daughter was not in a good mood to say the least. She was cranky, tired and just hard to handle. By the time I got back home she was having a complete melt down and looked like the Exorcist in the back seat. I was trying to back into the driveway while looking into my side-mirrors to make sure I was staying on the asphalt. At the same time I was trying to keep an eye on Linda Blair in the back seat to make sure her head wasn't doing a complete 360.
Then I heard a "Bang!"

I looked in the rear-view mirror but couldn't see anything. I looked in the side-view mirrors and couldn't see anything. I was too far away from the garage door to hit it. So I put the van in park and jumped out.
There laying wounded on the driveway was hubby's pride and joy, his only reason for living, his prized Goldwing. Lying on its side... softly crying.

I knew I was going to be killed. I had to think fast.
I pulled the mini-van out of the driveway and parked it on the street. I got the Exorcist out of the back and dragged her in the house kicking and screaming. I called out to hubby but he didn't answer. So I ran upstairs looking for him. By the time I got to our bedroom I could hear him in the driveway cursing and swearing. I ran back downstairs and out to the driveway. Before I could say "Sorry" he looked at me and said "I am going to kill that cat!"

"The Cat?" What did the cat have to do with anything?
He saw the question marks in my eyes that were holding back the flood of tears that I was getting ready to spill while I begged for forgiveness.

"That God damn cat knocked over my bike. I went to the basement to get something and when I came back the cat was sitting on the bike. She must have jumped from the porch roof." He stood there scratching his head looking from the porch roof to the bike.
"The cat! Yes that damn cat" I agreed with him. I was a woman on death row if I had to sell-out the cat then so be it. "I've always hated that cat!"

"Help me pick it up" he asked. So I did my wifely duty and helped him put the bike up right. The tail light was broke and there was a big black scratch from the asphalt. "There's no damage at all" I lied. He was pissed. I tip-toed back into the house where I knew I'd be safer with the Exorcist.
Now, hubby is a retired police officer and a damn good one at that. He spent many years at accident scenes and was considered an expert witness in a court room. So it didn't take long for his police gut feelings to kick in.

About 20 minutes later I had calmed the Exorcist down and let her have a nap. I was enjoying a cup of tea while watching TV when hubby comes back into the house. He calmly sat in his armchair and said, "You know that cat is only about ten pounds." Immediately my brain said "Dead Woman Walking!" I had to think quick. "Nooooo. She must be handy on thirty pounds. You should see what she eats. She looks like a seal with legs." He quietly nods his head and answers "Even at thirty pounds. If she was propelled from a rocket launcher at a 1000 pound motorcycle, she still wouldn't knock it over."
"It was probably one of those perfect storms" I was drowning here "When the cat jumped from the roof and the wind was at a perfect speed and the bike was at the perfect angle. You know like one of those freak accidents."

"Or" he says "Like when someone backs their mini-van into the driveway without looking in the rear-view mirror to make sure there's nothing there first." Dead woman walking! Dead woman walking!
"Who would do that and not tell us?" I asked shocked. "Well maybe it was someone with my bike paint on their rear bumper" he answered. I knew he had me. My only hope was to throw myself on the mercy of the court and to turn it around and make him believe it was his fault.

"Well you shouldn't have parked it in my driveway. You know I can't park on the best of days. This is your fault."
He calmly got up and said, "I am going to Canadian Tire to buy a tail-light for my bike. It's in the front driveway. Try not to kill it the next time you park the van." Then he left.

I watched him walk away thinking this is a trap. He has booby-trapped the house to blow up when he gets to the bottom of the street. Or maybe he cut the break-lines on my van. Or maybe cut the heals off my favourite stilettos. There has to be retaliation for this.
I've been waiting two years. Still nothing. Whenever he mentions putting the bike away for the winter I start sleeping with one eye open. I know it's coming.

Maybe revenge is best when it's served cold, but does it have to be moldy too?