Quick! What is your favorite dessert? Not desert, which could be the Sahara Desert, Great Basin Desert or Antarctica Desert. Yes, there is an Antarctica Desert, and it is the largest desert in the world. Weird huh? But now back to desserts. The subject of dessert was brought up by a sign displayed on a reader board outside of an eatery we drove by.
The sign offered homemade apple crisp. For the record, I find there is no way any restaurant can make anything “homemade”. That is a misnomer. To be homemade you have to make it at home. It can be “like homemade” or taste as “good as homemade.” But again to be homemade it must be made at someone’s’ home, not in a stainless steel kitchen that also whips out a chef’s salad that is not made by a chef. Oh we could be here for hours, but let’s move on.
I have, for the time being, named apple crisp as my favorite dessert. Not because of that sign, but because I like apple crisp. It’s like getting the best part of apple pie without the crust. However the conversation continued as to which part was better. The apples with all the sugary, cinnamon-y flavors? Or was it the crispy topping? With all the buttery oatmeal sugary goodness. The debate it seems was a bit one sided. I found myself talking about each part of the desserts +s &-s but without any give and take from the guy in the seat next to me. So I continued. I put my hands out in front of me and tipped one up then the other, you know like weighing each side. The apples or the crisp. He just sat there driving as though I were from outer space. A non-entity. Ah, we finally get there, car discussions, or car talk.
Think of car talk as the industrial version of pillow talk. Here is an extreme example of car talk. When I was young and newly married there was always something to talk about when we drove long distances. One fine day we were going to a neighboring town, some 70 plus miles away. Off the tip of my tongue out came the question, “How do those insulators on the power poles work?” That opened a door I found hard to close. I was schooled for those 70 plus miles on how insulators on power poles work. I was impressed at the knowledge of my new other half. But in reality, to this day I cannot tell you how those insulators on those power poles work. All I do know is that when electricity for some reason escapes from its cage of wires, electricity bites! That is enough for me to know.
Industrial car talk can take you and your auto-mate many places. Talk of kids, pets and dream vacations are fine conversations. But try to stay away from politics, stock markets antics and especially stray far afield of any type of criticism of your loved one. Like, “Your pot roast was kinda stringy last night.” “Why are you wearing that?” “You have a lot of ear hair from where I am sitting.” These type of conversations will not end well. Remember you are in an enclosed capsule, traveling between 55 and 75 miles per hours. You not only can’t get away at that speed, you also do not want to have the option of being offered help getting out of the car!
One last thing I would like to pass on. On your next mile after mile trip watch for the power lines. Not the insulators, we have already gone over that. But the poles. Have you ever noticed how straight the line of poles are? When there are miles and miles of ribbons of highways ahead and you come to a point of going under power lines attached to a line of poles do you anticipate looking down the line? It’s a just a quick glance so you have to be quick. You see the power line coming, it gets closer, and the anticipation of looking down the pole line grows. You position yourself so you can get the best glimpse possible at 70 miles per hour. Then zip, you see them all lined up, not one out of order, and poof the sight is gone. Trust me on this, you cannot look both ways fast enough to see both lines. So you must chose. Left or right? The apples or the crisp?
Trina Machacek lives in Eureka, Nevada. Her book ITY BITS can be found on Kindle. Share your thoughts and opinions with her at firstname.lastname@example.org