Any trip we take through the small towns of Texas requires examining any junk... err, antique stores we happen to pass by. We hit several on the way back.

As is my typical practice, I rummaged through the old books while she shopped for more gewgaws and kipple to toss into our overloaded, groaning, storage unit. There this mound of termite fodder and rustbait will molder, providing the basic infrastructure for all manner of vermin, while awaiting, after painstaking and meticulous repair, refinishing, rehabilitation and revision, rebirth, transformed from pedestrian junk to Folk Art.

So says the party line.

CG thinks it unkind of me to point out that in all the years I've known her, not one toothpick of this ragpickin' lumberyard has actually made this transfiguration, and even been displayed at a craft show, much less actually sold, and downright abusive to mention any of the many deadlines she's laid down for this fabled business plan to come to fruition. They have come and gone to recede into the dark misty fog of forgetfullness, as the new ones rise up bright and hopeful on the horizon, shining in the sunlight of SomeDay Soon.

But, I digress, as I am wont to do...

I found two interesting books - a one volume survey of Western Civ, "Civilization in the West," Brinton, Christopher, and Wolff, 1964, Prentice-Hall, and "Facts and Ideas For Students of English Composition" Beaty, Leisy, and Lamar, 1930, F.S. Crofts. This is a collection of essays, short stories, narratives, and speeches deemed by the authors as models for the aspiring writer to emulate. The list of authors includes Santayana, Kipling, Will Durant, Willa Cather, Hawthorne, and some guy named Anonymous, among many others. It cost me four bucks for the pair.

As I laid my books on the counter, the lady asked me, "Did you see that set of George Eliot's?" referring to a twenty-four volume complete works printed in 1895 in London. Most of the volumes were in very good shape, but some of them had tattered spines, and a few had lost their covers, in the sense that they had come loose, but were still there. She had the set marked at $150. I had zero interest in it.

"Yes, I saw it, but I'm not a big Eliot fan, ma'am."

"The set books at $500, I looked it up, but I marked it down because some of them are in bad shape."

"Yes, I saw that."

"What would you offer me for them?"

"I'm really not interested in them."

"I need to get rid of them, and they didn't cost me anything - I got them in a lot I bought for something else in it."

"I wouldn't wanna insult you."

"You won't insult me."

Exasperated, I said, "Ok. Ten bucks."

Smiling, she asked, "Would you like a box? I have one right here."

So, I am now the proud owner. But I still have no desire to own them. Anybody out there interested? I'll make you a good deal. Speak up now before I put 'em on eBay.

After about a thirty mile tack down the road, a long run for us, CG says, "Look, honey, they've got a Supra just like yours!" as we were passing by a salvage yard. So I hit the brakes, make a quick yooey, and pulled into the yard.

A bald guy named Sal, with a patch on his left eye, and tatoos on his head where the hair is supposed to go, runs the place. He let us into the yard, where his horse followed us like a pet dog as we walked past the carcasses of all manner of dead vehicles over to the car.

It was not in real bad shape. It's white, the color I need, most of the metal is good, not much rust except on the hatchback where they all get it, the original mag wheels are there, and it's got the louvers mine doesn't have. Best of all, it's got the five speed manual tranny, which I've been looking for for a long time.

So, I went back, pony in tow, and asked Sal how much he wanted for it. As we talked, the horse laid his head lightly on CG's left shoulder. She was turned the other way, and must have thought it was my hand, as she didn't take notice.

I just kept talking, wondering how long it'd take before she snapped.

Sal asked which parts I wanted off the car. I said I wanted the whole car.

Sal said he didn't really want to sell it that way - he didn't have a title for it.

CG continued to woolgather, no doubt contemplating her next antique acquisition.

Well, sez I, I don't need a title, I'm gonna part it out to restore my car.

Sal asked You want the wheels, too?

Yep.

Umm, $200?

At the mention of money, CG came down from the clouds, turned her head back our direction, and saw me standing too far away to be touching her, and on the wrong side, to boot. She snapped her head back over her left shoulder, which put her nose about four inches away from the pony's eyeball, and spanghewed about four feet in the air.

All three of us were laughing by the time she hit the ground. :-)

I asked Sal if he'd take $150, while CG was catching her breath.

Still chuckling, he allowed that he would.

Pointing at Otto, I stated the obvious - that I couldn't take the car with me, and that I'd have to come back with a trailer. So, I gave him $50, and told hime he'd get the rest in a few weeks when I came back. He said that'd be fine.

So, I'm now the proud owner of a parts car to use and get Widget, my 1985 Supra, restored. MK's mom got Widget as a college graduation present, and I met her only a few months later. I got her in the divorce, and have kept her ever since, mostly for sentimental reasons. We had lots of happy times riding around in Widget.

I promised MK about five years ago that it could be her first car, and that I'd get it into like-new condition for her. She's got a few dings and some rust, the driver's seat is worn, and needs paint and some minor mechanical stuff, shocks and some A/C work.

She sits out in the parking lot in semi-retirement, as I don't keep insurance on her since I'm driving Otto, and CG likes to drive the Blue Bomber, a big Dodge Ramcharger, as it's got a lot more room to haul stuff in case she happens to be driving by a store.

I spent the rest of the ride home trying to figure out where I'm gonna put the donor corpse for Widget's tranplants. Guess I'm going to have to sweet talk my Dad into letting me put it out behind his garage until we finally find a house...