Alex called me tonight. I always love hearing from him. Since he moved back to Atlanta, seven years ago, we might talk two or three times a month. More often, of course, if there is something worth discussing. (Read: gossip, I guess. I hate calling it that. If it's the truth, is it gossip? No. Not really.)
Tonight, however, I got a call from him for yet my second breach of kinship. It's the Grand Prix, again. You see, when I bought the car in 1999, I didn't tell him anything about it. I didn't do this intentionally -- I just didn't think about it. I was too obsessed with finding the Holy Grail of cars for me. OK, I have many Holy Grails when it comes to cars. But I love the body style of 1967 and 1968 full-size Pontiacs. This is my second, and hopefully not my last. Nevertheless, my kindred spirit regarding all things automobilia, for a number of years, didn't even know I was buying the car until he saw me driving past his house, down the street, to mine.
Fast forward seven years, and I didn't tell him I'd listed the Grand Prix on Craigslist this past Sunday. We had talked the day before, but I wasn't stricken with the illness to get rid of the rare convertible until Sunday morning. He found out by checking my blog, as he does every Monday.
The rub is, Alex is not only my friend, but he is as much (if not more) an autohead than I am. I love mid-fifties and late sixties Pontiacs and Cadillacs (colored with a few Lincolns and DeSotos along the way, plus Ford Country Squires -- especially LTD Country Squires, circa 1970). Alex LOVES station wagons and Buicks of most kinds. Except for, perhaps, something like the hideous reintroduced Skylark.
He's looking for a 1970 Electra 225 convertible (I think) as we speak. Here is where I fall down on the car thing. He knows whether the Electra was offered as a convertible for 1970. I don't. I have to do a Google search to know such things. I have SO focused on what I like for so many years that I've pretty much forgotten or dismissed anything else -- regardless of its rarity or collectibility. (Blogger's spell check is making me question my usage and the spelling of "collectibility." I just did a search using my Dashboard and Oxford American Dictionary. Apparently, I've done well.)
Anyway, long story short, I have "dissed" Alex, yet again. Sometimes I wonder why he still talks to me. He always makes big fun of catching me in these breaches. I love him for that.
As an example, several years after he’d bought me diner-styled Coca-Cola china (to match our early 1950s diner-styled kitchen, where I've always used restaurant Guest Checks for notepads to extend "the brand"), I referred to the dinnerware as "these tacky dishes" one evening when Cameron asked me which plates I'd have liked to set the table. Mind you, I really didn't think the dishes were tacky. I was just bored with them because we used them everyday, for ALL occasions, for a many years. And, I suppose I thought dinner deserved to be elevated from diner to dining room. I don't know. As soon as the comment came out of my mouth I was mortified. Alex was standing right there in the kitchen with us. He'd heard every word, and the look on his face is one I'll never forget.
I've been accused of being "uppity and grand" at times -- mostly from Alex's long-time ex. Regardless, it upsets me to be thought of this way. Usually I'd get these "accusations" when I was trying to make things nice. I might be trying to elevate certain situations for a number of reasons. It could be that I have spent an extraordinary amount of time in the kitchen, or I found a new recipe, or that I just wanted things to be different than the boring norm. Sometimes the finest china and exquisite crystal become tiresome when it's "everyday."
I just pray he knows how much I value him not only as a car nut, but as a friend.