Miata Mailing List: November 1996, Message #205
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From: Phredd
*Tuesday*: ---- Something snapped, I guess, and I found myself cleaning out a year or two's worth of debris from my briefcase. You know, stuff like expense receipts it would've been smarter to remember to turn in, invitations to functions I truly meant to show to my bride and to which to RSVP, laundry tickets about which I swore to the proprietor he never gave me (anybody else know what a "plick" is), a few "May Madness" special discount coupons for Comprehensive Engine Analyses, Paint Sealant Booster Treatments, and 9-point Tire Pressure Checks from my local Mazda dealership, and the odd twelfth-generation Xeroxed-then-faxed copies of such things as Mafia Marriage Licenses, lists of ways that Polish people apparently do things like changing light bulbs, and, of course, everyone's favorite; the Dr. Kervorkian Gift Certificate. Having lightened my daily commuted burden by roughly eleven pounds, I finally opened my burgundy, American Tourister, genuine cowhide, expandable for extra-executive loads, spring-loaded, combination-lock-secured, Executive Attache Briefcase's special secret pouch (presumably for those special secret documents we executive attaches continually carry about) and rediscovered my Minnesota Miata Club Win-A-1996-Miata raffle ticket. *Wednesday* (AM): ---- Sent up a message to the list inquiring as to the progress of this event. 'Thought I'd remembered that they had to pull the plug on it but hadn't heard anything in some time as I've been unsubbed for awhile. *Wednesday* (PM): ---- D/l'd dozens (I'd forgotten how helpful Miata folks can be) responses from Miatalisters of all stripes. The consensus was that the club had, indeed, had to cancel the event and was planning a "Check-writing Party" to refund the entrants. This was underscored by Greg, of the club, who opined that, in all probability, "the check is in the mail." Now, I've always held the citizens of our 32nd State (even though they're antecedently French) in the very highest regard. But I've heard that "postal" phrase before, eh? More significantly, I've *used* it often. So, you might imagine, when I logged off, I was not exactly in a fevered state of mail arousal. *Thursday* (AM): ---- ISP Holiday! I'm out of touch with the entire world. Oh, sure, there's TV and radio and newspapers and stuff but, I had no way to find out what's *really* going on. A long day. *Thursday* (PM): ---- Not only a long day but a sh --- uh, brown one. Then, I got home and it picked up. First -- the genuine Sears garage door opener actually opened the garage door from the outside for once and I didn't have to go through my 12-step program of putting the car away. Second -- my lovely bride greeting me with her normal big smile when I got into the house. Third -- she said, "Did you buy a Miata lottery ticket or something in Minnesota?" "Uh, yeah," I sez, "Why do you ask?" "You won $25." *Saturday* (PM): ---- I finally get around to sending this. Don't know about you guys, but I think it's really a bummer the Minnesota club's fund raiser didn't fly. Especially since it was a *charitable* event. It's hard to believe that there aren't a thousand folks around who are willing to take a $25 flyer on a great car like a Miata. Reminds me of when I was a teenager in Southern Illinois. I grew up in a predominently German Catholic township in which, when summer rolled around, the operative word was, "Picnic." Except during the week when the operative word was, "Bingo." On the weekends, though, they had these great picnics (on church property, if they couldn't find a suitable secular setting -- come to think of it, there wasn't much in Belleville, Illinois that *wasn't* church property) where they'd have every kind of known picnic food (fried fish, bar-b-que, corn-on-a-cob, . . . *hush puppies* . . . and watermellon), craft (quilting, doll-making, deer sculptures hewn double-bladed out of huge chunks of wood, and tigers, bullfighters, and Jesuses-on-velvtet paintings (Elvis hadn't been invented yet), and game of chance known to humankind. For some reason, too, they were always raffling off either a new Studebaker or a new Mercedes 190 or 300 2-seater. I guess it depended on the parish. Plus, if you looked as if you were at least 9 years old, you could buy a quart bottle of Stag beer sitting in a little galvanized bucket with ice and a colorful Stag Beer ("The Beer With The Indestructable Flavor") logo on it. If you looked 12, they'd let you gamble for it. Every game of chance had, as it's lowest prize, a quart bottle of Stag beer sitting in a little galvanized bucket with ice and a colorful Stag Beer ("The Beer With The Indestructable Flavor") logo on it. Anyway, there was a guy in our group who was the first among us to get a car. Well, he should. He was a year and a half older than the rest of us. (We always wondered why Kiwi was in the same grade as us.) His name was Ronnie Kassebaum so, naturally, as I'm sure you expect, we called him "Kiwi." Oh, *I* always called him "Ronnie" or "Ron." Mainly 'cause he once told me, "If you call me 'Kiwi,' too, I'll kick your ass." He was small but wiry. Kiwi, who had an immaculate, Grey, '52 Ford Mainliner 6 (which is not much different from a beat '52 Ford Mainliner 6) once said at the Our Lady of the Summer Picnic summer picnic, wouldn't it be great if I won that car? "You bought a chance on that car?" we exclaimed (in unison, if I remember correctly -- this was a 300SL gull wing coupe). "No." To this day I don't know why but, we all thought that was hysterical. It became folk legend amongst the guys on Arthur Street. Kiwi, as might be expected, didn't win. Although, I currently have a friend who claims that buying a state lottery ticket only *slightly* increases your chance of winning. He could've come a lot closer than he ever knew. Getting back to Minnesota, I'd like to add my sentiments to those doubtless expressed on the list in recent days: Sorry that it didn't work right for you, guys. I was really counting on winning that car. Here's hoping that your next event is a runaway success. Keep the Revs up! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ PhRedd \014 ==============================================================================