bob – Page 3 – A Jaunty Little Blog

April 18, 2023June 30, 2023

It Fills Your Heart

Friends,

Sometimes an offhand comment just hits you. My sweet wife and I were driving North on the first leg of our Spring vacation (because there needs to be a lot of them this year, so I’m holding out hope that they’re at least seasonal). We were winding our way through a stand of trees and she simply said, “I know it sounds corny, but this—the trees—they fill my heart. They fill it back up. Is that weird?” I had felt the same thing, but didn’t know how to put it into words. When your job is to make things up and write them down, that’s a big problem, but I felt it too.

Maybe there’s a point when the trees, the scale of the forest here, can help us remember the words. Maybe the sea air, the waves crashing, the salt spray, can clean up the mess on aisle five left by pandemics and rancor and a shoe that stubbornly refuses to drop.

No, it isn’t weird. Yes, it fills my heart too.

Your best pal,

– bob

April 4, 2023

Are You Not Entertained?

Friends,

The workload over the past several days has been sparse, so I have offered my time to assist my colleagues in the UK with their projects. Knowing that they probably don’t have anything ready to go, I’ve been adding some other service in Microsoft Teams, like picking paint colors or offering dinner suggestions. Today, I offered a bedtime story, which they enthusiastically requested.

I’d like to present it to you as it was presented to them, so I’m going to supply screen shots with the story in ALT text. That way, if you have a screen reader, you can follow along.

I flavor the story early in the chat with the post image you see at the top. Okay, here we go…

(Since I was also in a video call, it took a little while to finish up. My colleagues were not amused.)

And that, dear friends, is a fun way to entertain a group of jaded copywriters in the middle of a meeting.

Your pal,

– bob

April 3, 2023April 3, 2023

Tuning The Carbs

Friends,

I just got off the phone with a nutritionist named Jeanine who shared some things, like if one has diabetes, one must be very conscious of carbohydrates. I learned this from my Dad, who offered this advice, “Stay away from white food.” Before you imagine that he was referring to potato salad with raisins (ew. – ed), he meant rice, potatoes, and bread. 60 grams of carbohydrates a day. That’s my “budget.” Not a lot for me, since I love a good potato chip every now and again.

Jeanine also noted that I’m barely getting half of the exercise I should be putting in every week. If I have any desire to lose weight, it’s 300 minutes of exercise each week, at minimum. I’m thinking of starting here and building up to a more serious regimen. The problem is that I can’t seem to get started.

You know, maybe I should treat it as a nice way to mix up the routine.

Now that I think about it, another way to mix up the routine would be to fix a certain sad and broken Jeep languishing in my garage. (isn’t there also a sad and broken jeep in your driveway as well? – ed Yes. I’m reminded of that fairly regularly, but this is a different story.)

My fine Jeep Commando is a lot of fun to drive, but it’s sort of a pain to keep running. Slowly, I’m working on that problem. Now that electric cars are slated to take over from hydrocarbon-burning transportation, replacement carburetors are remarkably cheap. If you don’t believe me, look for regular, non-performance carburetors at Amazon, or Summit Racing, or Rock Auto. Those remanufactured carbs are pretty cheap, because the bet is that they’ll soon be obsolete. That calculus may be a little premature, but I’ll take it.

I also took the opportunity to replace the points in the distributor with a Pertronix unit. It’s a Hall-effect pickup that replaces the points and fits inside the distributor cap. That should take care of the “go” but I still need to address to the “whoa.” (seriously? -ed It was too good to pass up.)

Also, there might be some large holes in the floor…

Nothing that can’t be fixed, right?

Right?

Your pal,

– bob

February 1, 2023

I Appreciate You

Friends,

It’s the first of February, which is not necessarily notable since it’s an entire day before my birthday, but I’ve got a moment so let’s have at it.

Things have been happening here in America’s 23rd Most Disappointing City (did you make that up? -ed I sure did, but I’m gonna go with it for a while. What could be worse than not being the best at being the worst?). In-laws have been falling and going to the emergency room. Moisture fell out of the sky and filled up the back yard, drowning the lawn. Moisture fell out of the sky over the Secret Alpine Laboratory, which looks nicer…

The security cameras there captured the scene, but I haven’t been there for a solid month. This hurts my heart, to be completely honest. We may go Friday if the in-laws don’t fall again.

Sigh.

Speaking of security cameras, some of them are old and crap, so they need more light. Nowadays, Wi-Fi-connected lightbulbs can provide the needed lumens, but how to tell them apart? I’ve found that giving IoT devices cute names is annoying when issuing voice commands…

“Hey Siri, turn on The Light Colloquially Known As Sir Harriot Blammo VonDinkle”

Instead, I added pictures—and a deep sigh.

Ahh, that’s better.

Your pal,

– bob

January 10, 2023January 11, 2023

It’s The Little Things and The Big Things

Friends,

I haven’t been ignoring this here endeavor as much as I’ve been actively putting off updates. You’ll quietly wonder why and I’ll go ahead and tell you.

It’s all been too much.

Holidays, houseguests, dealing with other people’s illnesses, staying busy at work in spite of the year-end lull, and getting a new roof installed on two houses has all done a number on my psyche.

What’s one to do but let things settle down and wait for some inspiration to come. Well, that inspiration has arrived and it’s a real mess.

We’ve known each other for a while now, so it won’t shock you to learn that I try to know at least a little something about a lot of things. I also try to know a lot of things about a couple things so that I can gain some expertise in a subject, but also because constantly referring to reference materials makes me lose focus. Trap the facts in the buffer, get the job done quickly, and everybody’s happy.

I’ve recently started, due to lower ad spending at the end of this year, reading more about this here copywriting craft. I’m trying to learn more about who’s good, who’s not, why they’re considered good or not, and things I can do to get better. One of the paths to writing better copy (if you believe the current thinking) is not to write at all, but use an artificially-intelligent bot instead.

Mme. Puppy Dog and I both agree that using an AI is a remarkably bad idea unless I have an aching desire to appear redundant. Since this would impact the steady flow of kibble from the store to Madame’s belly, she disapproves.

Social Media (plural)

The world record holder for losing the most personal wealth in history has some abhorrent views and some abhorrent friends. I thought it’d be neat to move off of his bird service and migrate my social media attentions to some of the other services that aren’t Facebook or Instagram. The problem is that I can’t seem to settle on one that feels like a good fit.

I wanted to like Mastodon, but their web interface is pretty hectic. Tapbots is beta testing a client and I’ll look into that when it’s baked, but it’s not happening for me yet.

I’m also on Post.news and cohost.org in addition to my existing ello account. They’re really not scratching that itch of having a mass of fun people, delivering the latest news, and rapid updates. Maybe I’ll split my time between here and Substack.

As always, I appreciate your thoughts (unless they’re mean, spam, mean spam, or spam in a foreign language, then they’re deleted).

Your pal,

– bob

September 29, 2022September 29, 2022

What’s All Dat?

Friends,

It’s been a little while, hasn’t it? Since we last convened, I have injured my back rather severely, gone on a three-day work trip to New Orleans, Louisiana, adopted and brought back to life a very slow and very charming old computer, and I’m getting ready to put a roof on The Secret Alpine Laboratory. I also have very bad news about the Idyllwild Weather Clam that I can no longer suppress. Sufficiently teased? Great!

Remember to stretch

I thought that storm waters were flowing under the stem wall into the crawlspace under the cabin. Add some dirt, and the resulting mud flow had swamped some stacked drywall and lumber. Their stinky and moldy corpses were immediately punted to the landfill. However, it wasn’t local flooding at all. The problem was a perforated iron drain pipe from the kitchen sink. I cut it out, removed the mud, and jammed everything back into the garage.

Now, when I need to move equipment out, I’m navigating over a couple welders, around dead batteries, and through a narrow passage before I get them through the door. It’s tight and the obstacles are stabby. I grabbed the miter saw to chop the new custom threshold that was the wrong size. The first injury must’ve made a cartoon “sproing!” noise inside my back somewhere in the neighborhood of T10 or T11. The second part, where I turned the wrong way while still carrying the saw surely sounded like a Spanish galleon running aground on the rocky shores of L5-S1. I wouldn’t know because all I could see was white and all I could smell was pain.

That was on Labor Day.

Economy class

Three days later, I was on a plane headed for New Orleans to meet my coworkers in person for the first time. It’s hard to fault United Airlines for wanting to crowd as many people in each plane as possible. After all, the industry has received billions of dollars in loans and relief from American taxpayers over the last decade. They’re hurting for cash!

I haven’t been on a plane since our honeymoon before the pandemic. Since then, the seats have been moved even closer together, the cushions replaced with ones that are much thinner. Would the pain meds kick in soon? Maybe they already had and the pain from the back injury, plus the seats, plus the knees belonging to the woman seated behind me, was actually much greater than this.

This was the theme for the entire trip, unfortunately.

I had to plan ahead for every walking adventure. Is it too far? Can I make it back to the hotel on foot or will I have to call for a ride? After checking in at the hotel, I left to meet everyone who had arrived first and it was like old friends picking up where we’d left off. Except we’d never met in person. It’s a good group and we had a lot of laughs.

Even the next day, when we ventured out to hit a particular tourist spot, everybody had a great time.

Team building exercises, cajun bánh mì for lunch (You didn’t know that was a thing, did you?), then dinner at The Roosevelt. A packed schedule, for sure. The next day was just as packed. Vegetarian eggs benedict (Cajun style, ‘natch), quality time in an escape room, then off to the return trip home.

A funny thing happened on the way back. Same planes, but they were only half full. It took two planes to get home and both flights had a lot of empty seats, including the middle seat. I could spread out, stretch, and stop whimpering about the persistent back pain which had not relented.

It wasn’t until 10:30 or so that evening that I finally got home and was greeted by the welcoming committee.

Is this the party to which I am speaking?

Before I left on my trip, I won an auction for this little nugget…

Yes, that’s right. It’s an Apple Newton eMate 300 portable computer, from your childhood. This one seems to be in remarkably good shape, even though the battery was as flat as can be. It ran for about five minutes after a full charge, complaining about imminent automatic shutdown after two. Back to ebay for a five dollar nickel-metal hydride battery pack intended for a baby monitor. It’s the right shape, I just transferred the temp sensor so the charging circuit can detect if it’s overheating.

It’s that thing under the tape in the center of the batteries. Peel it off, cut the power leads and solder on the new ones. Stick the sensor down on the new pack and tape everything back together. Not only easy, but also peasy.

Now there’s the small problem of getting the thing to talk to any of the modern computers around here. Modern like the Clamshell iBook, or the 12-inch G4 Stuntbook. I installed the software and adapted the adapters, but still get a “can’t communicate with this computer” message. I’m stumped.

Cement pond

You know the old chestnut about how the cobbler’s children go barefoot? I never truly believed it, myself. Who’s going to raise a family with a fruit crumble? Absurd. (unless it’s peach. i love a peach cobbler. -ed)

Even though my Dad built pools for a living, he did next to nothing to repair the swimming pool at the family home. The tile was falling off, plaster cracked, diverter valves frozen in place, wiring strapped to piece of plywood held up by a single rusty nail. It was a real mess, but he was unwilling and later unable to do anything about it.

Since his passing, Mom has taken on the big projects, like rehabbing the pool. I have to say that it looks great.

An added bonus is that I’m the first person to actually go for a swim since its rehabilitation. I’m happy to report that it’s great. Wouldn’t change a thing.

The Sad and Tragic Demise of Big Fine Salty Mountain Tide Pool

As you know, we’ve been dealing with a longstanding drought here in California brought about by climate change. I’ve been doing my part to solve the problem, but not enough, apparently. Our gal, the Idyllwild Weather Clam was nowhere to be found when I arrived at my Secret Alpine Laboratory to have the roof replaced. Her tidepool was a dry and desolate place, since we’ve had next to no rain this summer and she has apparently packed up and left. Yet another climate refugee, I fear.

If you hear from her, please ask her to call and let her know that I put more minutes on her prepaid phone.

If only she had waited

Why am I still here at the Lab, you ask? The gigantic and very expensive roofing job had to be postponed for most of this week due to torrential downpours. A inch and a half of rain on Sunday and another inch yesterday. It’s enough to spook a roofer, so we start tomorrow, and by “we” I mean “they” start tomorrow. My involvement is to keep a fire extinguisher nearby and to see if my noise-cancelling headphones are good for anything beyond plane travel.

Whew! That was a lot. I’ve been having trouble with my web host, so this may not post correctly. Cross your things for good luck.

Your pal,

– bob

July 29, 2022August 18, 2022

How Much Is Too Little? Edition

Friends,

As you know, I’m currently working for the 8th largest B2B marketing communications firm (by billings) in the UK and I’m dead chuffed about it. (a bit gratuitous, innit? – ed See? You’re doing it now. It’s infectious.) However, problems pop up in any new job and in this job, because it’s completely remote, it’s hard to get a read on people. What I tend to do in these situations, and stop me if this seems very familiar, is overcompensate. “Oh no!” I hear you exclaim, beating your chest and tearing at your garments. “How can this possibly be so! Haven’t you learned your lessons?” To which I reply, “Was that supposed to be plural?” And you answer in chorus, “Yes, plural.”

so be it.

I’ve learned some lessons, like when to sit down and write about it before I dig myself the deepest hole. And that brings us to now, and the current problem is this: Is it my job to jam mildly-spiced words into a casing to be boiled, sliced, and served to a mildly interested public in order to tick a box on a marketing communications manager’s spreadsheet of monthly deliverables? Or is it my job to bring the training and knowledge I’ve gained over several decades to develop engaging narrative to compel the reader and bend them to my will?

Well? Is it that one?

After being told recently that my work was too esoteric, too cerebral, and also that my work was too formulaic, stodgy, like a datasheet, I went a little overboard. I thought I’d see if I could get more love from colleagues if I started being more “wacky.” This did not go well.

Then I buttoned things down and asked colleagues for reports on target demographics and the results from previous campaigns. This continued my streak of not winning any friends.

So here I sit, at a loss as usual. I’m also grateful for the opportunity to report that this is the worst of my problems.

Not so bad, eh wot?

Your best pal,

– bob

June 15, 2022June 15, 2022

A Roof Over Our Heads

Friends,

This is the story of two houses. One built in a tract of single family homes during the early 1970s suburban speculation boom. The other built as a vacation getaway in a small mountain resort town during the late 1940s post-war construction boom. Both houses need a new roof.

The 50-year old house needed its red asphalt composite shingle roof replaced 20 years ago and the owners did what any self-respecting cheapskate did in the 90s—cover the red shingles with gray shingles. Now that those shingles have failed (curling, tabs breaking off, whole sections breaking off and flying away), we needed to do something.

The 75-year old house has, apparently, only had its issues addressed once (omg). At that time, the cedar shingles were covered with asphalt composite shingles. I suspect that this wasn’t necessarily to address leaks, but to satisfy a nervous insurance agent trying to justify renewing a policy deep in the urban/wilderness interface. Well, it leaks now, so we need to do something.

There are a lot of roofing contractors servicing the area surrounding the 50-year old house. We read good recommendations for a fellow named Ray. We had a chat, and he agreed to do the work for ten and a half thousand dollars, give or take. Okay, that’s not entirely true. There’s no take, and after the additional carpentry that needed to be done, we gave up a couple thousand more, and after maybe 12 hours of work, they were packed up and gone. The results are just right too. Right color, right amount of fuss (none). If you need a roof, call Ray.

If you’ve taken this cue to stand in your front yard yelling, “RAY!” He’s probably not going to answer. Send me an email instead, and I’ll give you his contact information.

The problem with the 75-year old house, which you might remember as my Secret Alpine Laboratory, is that there’s nothing under the cedar shingles. They’re nailed to thin wood stringers spanning the roof joists, and that’s it.

To put on a new roof, the asphalt shingles, the tar paper, the cedar shingles, whatever paper is underneath that, and the stringers come down. Then, the new roofer who is not Ray will do all of the math and cover the steep pitches and deep valleys with plywood. Although the square footage is nearly identical to the younger structure, the cost is estimated to be over double.

That job hasn’t happened yet, but I’ve sent a very large deposit. This adult stuff is nerve-wracking.

Your very best pal,

– bob

June 13, 2022

Two Sentences From A Book – Gold Rush Edition

In a triumphant return to the Internet, The New, New Jaunty Little Players proudly present a passage from a treasure trove of the printed word delivered by a uniformed government official to this very location.

Ladies and gentlemen, please do doff your headwear and keep both hands in the ride.

It’s Two Sentences From A Book!

Hunter danced along with Fay in his arms, profound love for her throbbing in his heart, and wished he might tell her, in a way she would understand, just what might be in store for her at the hands of this group.
“May I, Miss Curry?” Potter said, and stood before her in his most respectful pose.

Thank you! Oh, you’re too kind!

Your pal,

– bob

April 26, 2022April 26, 2022

A Tree Grows There

Friends,

My Dad took warnings about the drought pretty seriously. Actually, he took the price increases imposed by the local water district seriously and he decided that he should allow the landscaping in the front of his house to go fallow. Sure, the city threatened to fine my parents for failing to landscape the front yard. Dad’s answer was a mix of, “dirt is desert landscaping,” but more often that he would get around to it soon enough.

When Mom called asking for suggestions on what to do with the front yard, I suggested a fruit tree. A grapefruit tree would be ideal for the shade they provide, but enjoying the fruit is a no-go. Maybe an orange or tangelo? Something full-grown, so we won’t have to worry about maintenance from a distance. I even offered to pay for a tree to be delivered and planted.

So Mom picked out a Palo Verde, which is not a fruit tree.

I still paid for it and tried to make planting day into an event, which didn’t happen. A neighbor suggested that the tree be a memorial to my Dad. I’ll leave a determination on that to your best judgement.

Your best pal,

bob

April 5, 2022June 8, 2022

Get A Long, Little Doggie

Friends,

I’ve been struggling lately. This pandemic has been wearing heavily on everybody, so much so that some individuals have decided on their very own that it’s over. Of course, the pandemic isn’t over, but a more liberated fiction is appealing. It’s dumb and dangerous, but appealing.

I thought that it’d be nice to travel this summer and get away for a little while from the sadness of losing parents and pets over a short few months. My sweet bride’s suggestion to go see Giant Sequoias and Redwoods was very appealing and easier to envision without having to mind a fleet of furry ding-a-lings.

But Phoebe happened.

We’re her fourth home (perhaps, maybe more) and she’s had a bunch of puppies. She’s now enjoying a new comfortable home, a couple squares a day, and all the attention she can stand. In return, she’s ready to offer her belly in case you’d missed the opportunity to give her a rub only minutes before. Free of charge, she will chase away neighborhood cats with a serious, but understated growl.

Now let’s see how she travels.

Your pal,

– bob

UPDATE: Here’s the right song to listen to while you enjoy this post.

February 18, 2022February 18, 2022

The Smartest Man In The Room

Friends,

My Dad passed away the other day. He hasn’t enjoyed anything resembling good health for years so we weren’t taken by surprise. My family has assumed that every fall, every diagnosis, would be the “precipitating event” for longer than I can remember. It turns out there wasn’t one.

More Than One Math

Dad had a remarkable memory and ability to perform complex calculations in his head. You could tell that he was working on something by the slight head tilt and swivel up 10° and 7° to the right. Right eye in a squint, then he’d turn back to you and share the answer.

He did this to calculate the length of conduit to buy for a certain sized pool, a certain distance from its equipment. He did this to check a server’s math after receiving the check at a restaurant after memorizing the price of every plate ordered. He could tell you to a precision of a half hour how long it would take to fill that pool based on its volume and the flow rate from a garden hose.

I like to think that he enjoyed finding order in chaos. Lots of things are knowable, and understandable, if you think about them hard enough.

A Casual Relationship With The Manual

The skill I gained from him instead of his innate grasp of the mathematical world, was his desire to know how things work. No instructions? Not a problem, just take it apart and figure it out. Listen to experts. Pay attention to advice, then trust your instincts. And know when you’re in over your head.

This works great for mechanical things. Most things built by people can be taken apart. Systems can be understood.

However, Dad had very little time for instruction manuals or service guides. If he didn’t need a specific value, like a spark plug gap or what that flashing light means, he could usually figure it out on his own. He didn’t care for code readers and had no patience for the Internet. Too much chaff, not enough grain.

Precious Gifts

He wanted to make sure that I got to see The Ernie Kovacs Show when I was a kid and to understand why it was funny. It’s the only television I can think of that made him laugh out loud.

Above all, and I spent a lot of time on this in his obituary, he was kind and generous. Maybe a little too trusting of door-to-door salesmen, but it seemed like his default position was that everyone is inherently good until they prove otherwise.

A pretty good example to set, I think.

I miss him.

Your pal,

– bob

January 13, 2022January 13, 2022

What Will You Be Doing?

Friends,

If you go back to the very beginning of this rumbling, bumbling, stumbling mess of a memoir, you’ll see that I veered away from a joke of the day format to longer posts not long after 9-11-2001. Not long after that, a bunch of us were relieved from our employment at The 23rd Largest Marketing Communications Agency (by billings) in the country. I spilled a lot of pixels howling about that loss two decades ago.

This is a pretty good soundtrack for this post. Enjoy!

Since that time, I’ve been trying to find a new copywriting gig. I sent out hundreds of applications, fashioned a marketing department at an old job, and I even started my own short-lived business. To say that these efforts failed to hit my career out of the park would ignore that I’ve been swinging at a lot of wild pitches for a very long time. It’s been exhausting.

Well, dear reader, the drought has ended. I’ve been hired by U.K. firm Twogether as their first U.S.-based copywriter and I couldn’t be more excited about it. I’ll be working from my remote office here in northern San Diego County putting words in a specific order that will compel people to do things! For money!

I know what you’re thinking. “Hey Bob, I’m happy for you and I wish you all the best in your new job, but does this mean that you’re going to stop posting to A Jaunty Little Blog altogether?” Heavens no, imaginary reader! In fact, I’m getting ready to start new features that will waste even more of your time. I understand that you’re busy and I haven’t been giving you the high-quality words and phrases on a reliable schedule that you had come to expect. However, I can now make this promise to you: if we’re not completely debilitated in our rampaging pandemic, imprisoned following the next civil war, or we don’t have to become refugees from our nascent religious fundamentalist minority white rule ethno-kakistocracy, I’ll have hours of entertaining content here for you!

Tell a friend!

Your pal,

– bob

October 17, 2021

It’s The Spanish Word For Minivan Ownership

Friends,

I applied for a job to write for the ad agency that operates the auto buying service for a big box retailer you’ve heard of. Had a couple interviews that went well and waited to hear word on their decision for what seemed like far too long. Eventually, they passed.

While I was waiting, I heard from a recruiter who thought I’d be great for an opening at a flooring company minding their database of dimensions and color profiles. I did that for Hewlett Packard half a lifetime ago and it led to some big things. As long as I’m starting my career over, might as well start over from the beginning.

Okay, this will make you mad: I went through a couple interviews and poured my guts out, then waited for far too long, again. When they finally made their decision, they decided to go with nobody and hire an agency to do the work. It’d be less expensive, they said.

So yes, I’m back at it. If you know anybody who needs a copywriter, let me know!

Your pal,

– bob

September 27, 2021September 27, 2021

Sometimes Life Is Like Owning A Pink AMX

Friends,

It’s been a very long time since I’ve posted up an update here and a lot has happened since the last post. Some very grim things and some lightly happy things that don’t seem to balance out the very grim things. I want to think that this is just a function of getting older, but we’re still (!!!) in a pandemic and there are studies that prove that politics is still to blame for a lot of deaths. Americans should be furious. I know I am.

When I was a tot, my best friend Jim and I were inseperable. We ran around and played and got into trouble and ate wheat paste and made each other laugh during catechism classes. We grew apart as we got older, but kept in touch infrequently. The last time I saw him was during his last month on this earth as he succumbed to the cancer that destroyed his burly frame, but never diminished his kindness and sweet demeanor. The party was for his parents’ wedding anniversary, but it really was for him. We hugged and he winced as I hugged his pain medication packs into his aching back. He was tired. He knew why we were there and seemed happy to see us.

I would like to take this moment to mention: Fuck cancer.

Jim’s sister is not a medical doctor, but she’s “done her research” on Facebook and convinced her parents that they shouldn’t be vaccinated against COVID-19. She told my Mom that she’s “very happy” that her parents hadn’t fallen for the constant barrage of media insisting they get the vaccine. They’re in their 80s, but worried about the vaccine’s long term effects. Jim’s father, one of the kindest men I’ve ever met, just died of COVID. I wonder if Jim’s sister is still so happy. At least we know he won’t have to deal with the long term effects of the vaccine.

I know a fellow who has a medical condition that prevented him from getting vaccinated. Too risky. He’s a sherrif’s deputy, one of our first responders who has risked his life saving others. He’s now a COVID long-hauler. Part of the reason we were supposed to get vaccinated early was to protect people like him. Folks whose immune systems put them most in harm’s way, like they weren’t already in harm’s way from the other stuff like bullets and blood and explosions.

If you’re like me (and may your omnipotent invisible friend help you if you are), you have a certain affinity for Roy Chapin Jr.’s AMC. It was scrappy, brash, and in big trouble. They were punching above their weight and taking shots at GM and Ford, who could do no wrong in the late 1960s. This was the era of the Matador coupe, Javelin, and the mighty AMX.

Now let’s pretend that it’s a half century later and you own a pink AMX. Maybe not that pink AMX, but it still garners the same attention and you still have to explain it. Why are you driving a pink AMX? Where did you get that pink AMX? Is it that pink AMX? And more recently, what’s an AMX?

Sometimes life is like that. Frustrating. Not simple. Not obvious.