TUESDAY WAS THE DARKEST DAY that I had seen since moving to the Pacific Northwest almost thirty years ago. At 3:00 in the afternoon it was so dark that the automatic streetlights and roadlamps were flickering on and off, their sensors apparently confused by the lack of light at that time of day. Cars had their headlights on and people were driving extra cautiously!
Yesterday, on the other hand, was so nice a day that I opened several windows in the house to allow the clean, clear fresh air to move about unhindered. Today though, may be the first day of winter, the weather was that ornery.
Still, one of my lifelong fantasies was fulfilled.
I had an appointment in Bellevue and took the bus to there in nice weather. After the meeting, I left the building and about a half-mile from the bus stop, the rain graduated from a kindergarten-like drizzle to a junior high downpour! It was pushed horizontally by the blustery wind! 1
Fortunately, Berni had packed me a bag. and I had a sweater, a scarf, a beanie, and an umbrella. Not that they mattered much: the wind-driven rain soaked me from the waist down. Still, doggedly I persevered, onward, to the bus stop—my sense of masculine pride in the balance.
And it got wetter and my umbrella was blown inside out over and over and finally, as I was walking across the 10th Street overpass above Interstate 405 a car pulled up alongside me and a voice said, “You want a ride?”
A female voice.
I looked over and my world stood still: the driver leaned over and opened the door invitingly.
An attractive blonde.
An attractive blonde in her thirties.
And she smiled.
Was this really happening?
Let’s stop here. I am 64 years old, but I look kinda good for my age. Nonetheless, I believe the operative words there are “for my age.” Still and all, she was doing the offering!
Did I mention she was driving a Jaguar?
No, not an E-Type, but a sedan type. But hey! It was a good-lookin’ blonde in a Jaguar offering me a ride with a smile! 2
This is, like, y’know, one of most men’s Top 10 Sex Fantasies. It certainly was one of mine, and it was happening to me! 3
And I thought about it for a second or two—I am, after all, only a man—and thought of Berni and looked at the blonde and the car and back up at the rain falling down and then back at her and I shrugged my shoulders “No thanks” and I turned my back to the blonde and the Jag and turned my face to the wind and the rain and persevered on over the bridge to the bus stop and I made it home unmolested.
(Sighhhhhh …) …
Of course there’s a moral to the story
Okay men, listen up—there are two morals to this True Life Story:
1. Do the right thing!
2. If you’re past a certain age, never ever leave the house without your Viagra!!!
You never know when your fantasy may materialize! 4
HEADER IMAGE: This image is of the extraordinary Kayslee Collins, Playboy’s Playmate of the Month for February 2015 in what appears to be a vintage, black Jaguar E-Type. When I went looking for a header image for this post, I wanted a thirysomething woman with class and taste and a silver-grey Jaguar sedan type car. So I started with a broad search: “blonde and jaguar car.” I got hundreds of photos of twentysomething softcore bimbo-babes and red-hot E-Types! Then I found Ms. Collins and thought, “I could live with her.” I mean, ahem, “I can live with that.” And so I am …
1 The great adjective blustery means “marked by strong wind or more wind than usual.” The word apparently debuted sometime in the 14th century from a Low German source, such as Middle Low German blüstren (“to blow violently”). Most folks recognize the root from that famous ’70s comedy song and dance duo, the Booze Blusters.
2 I know an E-Type Jaguar, but not much else. Looking at photos on the Internet, it may have been an F-Type. But I really wasn’t focusing on the car.
3 Or should I say “Male Sex Fantasy 101.”
4 You all think this is just me funnin’ with you. Hah! When Berni and I were getting to know one another, I would share little stories with her. like this one. She thought I was making them up to be funny, to amuse her. When she challenged one such anecdote that did sound embellished, I responded, “Truer lies were ne’er spoken—at least not by me!” Now that she knows me, she doesn’t think that I make much of anything up anymore.