Master of Racaroonieness

Posted: October 4th, 2010 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

    For about a year now my 16 year old Honda Civic has gotten finicky about firing up after there’s been some rain. The engine turns over but it won’t fire up until after several attempts to get it to finally start. Last month the car decided it needed some serious mechanical attention. My Honey, Keith, paid for and gave the car a tune-up — it ran beautifully, for about 100 feet. Then it died, dead in the water. There was no fire going to the spark plugs at all. My Dad got my car towed to the mechanic and also loaned me part of the funds to get it all fixed. The distributor unit, and all the electronic components in the ignition system, had to be replaced. (Again, a huge thank you to my two favorite men in the world.)

Keith’s ultimate fantasy for my car?

    We all thought my car’s ignition issues were fixed … Apparently my car felt otherwise. Tuesday evening of last week, after it had rained hard the day prior, I hopped into my car to zoom off on an errand. Once again, the car engine would turn over but it wouldn’t catch. This time it just refused to start. I was dead in the water, again.
    Meanwhile, a tropical storm from the south was moving up our way, guaranteeing our area some much needed rain. But, the weathermen were forecasting this future downpour right on the days prior to, and on, the very day I had two major doctor’s appointments scheduled related to my upcoming surgery.
    Luckily my Dad offered me a ride to my appointments — free of any begging having to be done on my part or any “because I can and it’s fun to do it to you” guilt trips from him. Yes, I’m still kinda in shock over that one. He actually sounded happy about getting to cart me around and treat me to a Subway sub that we enjoy splitting.
    My brain shifted gears … figure out what’s wrong with the car later, get to my appointments stress free, get treated to lunch and enjoy a day with the Master of Racaroonieness, of silliness, my Dad.
    Splitting a Subway’s tuna sub doesn’t sound like all that big of a deal, but for my Dad and me it is. We both enjoy our tuna sub the exact same way. Needless to say, we were elated when my Dad spotted some bags of our favorite chips. Subway has brought back “Vickie’s Jalapeno Chips.”
    A while back Subway stopped stocking these chips, along with the spicy sweet peppers. For us, those peppers were what pushed our tuna subs to a culinary zenith level.
    Dad and I had semi-seriously considered picketing in front of a Subway store. Give voice to our disagreement with Subway’s corporate penny pinching decision to stop stocking these two items — the chips and the spicy sweet peppers. We even mulled over the idea of bringing in our own jar of spicy sweet peppers, plunk it down on the table and fish out our pepper strips with full drama. Truth be told, I think Dad was just goading me along to see if I’d actually do it or not.
    There was a couple sitting next to us that were cracking up laughing by the time we left. As my Dad and I were getting ready to leave, we spontaneously launched into one of our Racaroonie routines that we often do — in full character we’ll carry on a conversation in a hick type southern accent. So, in full character we started having a ‘discussion’ about my Dad using the bathroom before we left.

Dad: “I’m a gonna go to the bathroom ‘fore we leave.”
Me: “Now, Dad. You sure you ain’t gonna get lost again?”
Dad: “I’m sure, Darl’n. I been here before. I know my way back.”
Me: “You been good about take’n your Alzheimer meds?”
Dad: “Uh huh, sure ‘nough. I done told ya, I been here before.”
Me: “Okay, Daddy. Okay, Daddy.”

    We also got to do our infamous “Robin Walk” routine on our way into Walmart. Just like a Robin Red Breast bird, you lean forward a bit, walk real fast in small steps, stop suddenly just as you go back to standing up straight as possible, pause and then go on repeating this gait of walking. The most important thing about this twit-walk routine is that you need to do it in unison with perfectly straight faces. Yes, I’ve taught this one to the girls. And, yes, this is for sure when Keith totally ignores us, as if we don’t exist.
    More fun ensued in the car with our fake communication melt downs while navigating our way to and from my second doctors appointment. “I done told you to get in the left lane! You never believe me!” “I was so getting in the left lane!” … on and on it goes, racaroonieness, inane silliness.
    But Dad showed his Jedi Master type Racaroonie skills when we got back to my place. He had already drawn attention to our arrival by setting off the car alarm when he opened the trunk. The neighbors for sure now were watching us.
    I asked him to listen while I tried to start my car. He was standing next to my door as I hopped in to try and start it. He did a dramatic sigh of total inconvenience and stated, “You’re just going to wear the battery down.” I told him I’d only turn the key once, I wanted him to hear what it sounded like from outside the car.
    Just as I’m about to turn the key in a pious tone he said, “You know the car is going to fire right up now, don’t you?” I laughed, it had rained earlier that morning like a Florida tropical storm. Literally, torrential rain only hours before this particular key turning event. No way my car was going to start.
    I turned the key … the car started right up! With a look of total shock on my face that the had car started, my father commenced to harness the Racaroonie Force with masterful skill.
    In a highly annoyed and persecuted voice he loudly said, “I knew it! I knew it! Your car was working just fine all along! You just wanted to bum a free ride today!” I started laughing while protesting my shock. He loudly continued on with his routine, hands on hips now. “You deliberately did this. You just wanted me to cart you around and get a free meal out of me!”
    I got out of my car, with a look of shock still on my face, as I’m following behind him while he stomps back to his car feigning betrayal and annoyance. I kissed his evil grinning face goodbye. He was happy, he got to pull off the best Racaroonie of the day.
    I’m pretty sure my Dad got what he was counting on by throwing the mock tantrum … The neighbors thinking my look of shock was from supposedly getting caught at trying to pull a fast one on my Dad.

:::: bows to the Master of Racaroonieness:::
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One Comment on “Master of Racaroonieness”

  1. 1 Chérie said at 9:23 pm on October 4th, 2010:

    An update … today a neighbor stopped to ask me what on earth my dad was saying to me that had me cracking up laughing when my car finally started.

    I told her the whole story, she cracked up laughing and said, "I knew something was up. Couldn't hear you two, but I saw you looking shocked and happy. It was so nice to see you having so much fun — especially with your Dad."