The Retiree


It's a typical Minnesota October day. The temperature is below sixty degrees, and it's raining just enough to mess up the windshield, with a promise of a downpour to keep us on our toes.
I'm sitting in the Subway shop waiting for maintenance on my car, drinking off-hours weak cold coffee and listening to music I wouldn't choose and over which I have no control.
Speaking of control, everything seems to be out of it. Federal employees are furloughed. The governor says the plan he endorsed to pay for the football stadium we don't want is now “history.” The Metropolitan Council which is beyond us geographically wants to put in a tunnel we don't need for a train we can't use for places we don't go. The Minnesota Orchestra can't seem to settle with the musicians, and the conductor quit. 
Streetcars keep coming up as a “need” in the Big Cities, but those in favor of them never drove from Lowry to 26th Avenue North with their wheels stuck in streetcar track ice as I once did. Millions of dollars are planned for things of no use to us out here by people we didn't elect and by whom we won't be consulted.
I just spent $3.30 a gallon for gas because my dashboard said it needed it, although it was a dime more than I would spend fifteen miles away from here, but it would cost me $1.75 to drive there, and as I said, they're working on my vehicle so I couldn't go even if I wanted to, which would be dumb.
Shortly I will go get my vehicle. I'm told I may need a synthetic lubricant for my transmission, which costs about the same as Seagram's Seven Crown, but lubricates better. Nobody wants to drive a drunk Buick.
Well, now I finished my cold coffee. Maybe that Seagram's transmission is done and I can go home in the rain in time for the news. Possibly the train and streetcar people have discovered buses, football people have abandoned their plans, music has started, and the price of gas has gone down.
Possibly pigs can fly.
P.S. It turned out that the transmission takes Miller Light instead of Seagram's, saving me about thirty bucks. It quit drizzling. There may be hope. Don't hold your breath.
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