It was a crazy morning. Young-adult daughter’s car is in the shop, and we’re sharing a vehicle. I dropped her off at school, ran across town for an interview for the day job, went back to pick her up at school and leave her the car for the rest of her afternoon work.
I arrived at lunchtime, and found a pretty blonde (my daughter) and a pretty brunette (a schoolmate of hers) waiting. Daughter would give schoolmate a ride home after they dropped me off at the Oregon City transit mall, but I had some intervening stops. First, the gas station, where daughter got the attendant, a goateed 20-something, talking about the most recent time a car’s gas tank caught fire. Her friend teased her about flirting, which she insisted she wasn’t, and then pointed out as we drove away that he had gone back into the office and pulled his shirt off.
Next stop, Taco Bell, where we arrived at the same time as the Oregon City High School lunch break. Three guys in a headache-mobile behind us in the drive-through started off by saying what cute girls were in the car ahead (that would be daughter and friend), then hopping out of the car to “test” the volume and quality of the speakers, and then, when that didn’t work, the driver shouted, “West Linn sucks!” I would have questioned the effectiveness of insulting the girl’s home town as a pickup line, but I guess if the speakers don’t impress her, you just go for broke.
Then I stopped at the Oregon City transit mall so that I could catch a bus (it’s good to be back on the bus). Daughter came around to get into the driver’s seat, and friend got out and into the passenger seat, and as I crossed the street, the slackers standing waiting for the bus asked me, “Is that your daughter? Can I have her number?”
Ah, spring, when a young man’s heart turns to love — and his brain turns to mush.