I am Karma's Main Squeeze

Sometimes, life throws you a series of seemingly random, fantastically depressing happenings. But then, after you look back at the big picture, it turns out that it all fits into a larger, comically pleasing frame. Or, at least, it makes JUST enough sense. So that, you know, you don't start internalizing all of life's little failures and end up punching a random stranger in the face to alleviate some stress. Not that I've thought about striking anyone in particular. Today.

Take this past weekend, par example. The Velogirl and I have really been feeling the back of our fair city's hand as of late. So, we decided to treat ourselves to a day trip in the country. The plan was to take a trip out to Gettysburg, walk through the park and watch the leaves change with the Wonderdog, maybe pick up a punkin and some cider at a roadside orchard on the way home. Pretty much your quintessential fall experience. We even mentioned our nerdy itinerary to our less nerdy yet understanding friends on Friday. But, as Al Swearingen once said, "Announcing your plans is a good way to hear God laugh."

(The man himself in one of his quieter moments. I miss that show. So. Effing. Much. Photo Courtesy of UGO.com)

You see, there was this issue with the automobile. Because we are a carless tribe, we decided to rent ourselves one of those compact cars, the kind that get 40 miles to the gallon and you can park in the city. In other words, the kind of car I would own if I wanted to count a gas-powered wheelchair among my possessions. (ZING! Take THAT, car culture!)

So, we went down to our local AVIS to pick the car up on Saturday morning. There is no place on EARTH more depressing than a car rental counter on a beautiful weekend day. When we walked in, we were greeted by two staff members and their dead, soul-less eyes. You know what i'm talking about. The kind of eyes that say, "I don't give a shit WHAT kind of great day you have planned and are excited to start. You get what I say you get, when I say you get it. My life sucks, ergo, YOUR MORNING WILL SUCK!".

Or, at least that's what I got from them. I could only bring myself to look into them for a second.

Well, the Velogirl heads up to the counter, announces we have a reservation, hands over some ID, and then is told to have a seat. The only seats available are across from the only other guy waiting for a car at this point. So we sit. And wait. And wait. And wait. And I have a birthday. And we wait. You get the picture.

Finally...Finally! The guy calls our name. He says, "They just pulled your car up, it's the first car in the row around the corner." So, we head out there, turn the corner, and see this:

What. The. Fuck. This isn't a compact. In fact, of all the cars in the universe, this may be the one that would be most diametrically opposed to a compact car on the wheel of transportation. On top of that, it's so goddamn ugly I can't even imagine sitting in it. It looks like the car that took second place in the "design a whale" contest at the Rhode Island School of the Blind. Closer examination reveals that it is a late model Mercury Grand Marquis. My mistake then.

The Velogirl looks at me, and I start laughing. Then, we head back to the AVIS folks to let them know their horrible, funny mistake. Turns out, it's "the only car they have." I LOVE it when rental car companies pull that shit. Reservations mean nothing--Seinfeld pretty much knocked that thought thread out of the park, so I'll leave that point to the professional.

So, what can we do? We've waited so long for this car, that if we don't take it, our entire weekend plan is shot to hell. So, we load up the Marquis and head for God's country. Only, by this time, it's too late to really make a day of it in Gettysburg, so we decide to head out a little closer to home and to do some hiking near Catoctin Mountain. It's a beautiful day, sun peeking through the trees as we walk, and the Wonderdog is about as happy as I've seen him since, well, his last walk. That dog loves his walk the way a sailor loves his rum.

We finish our hike and head back to the (dry cough) car when we spy a family of 4 sitting at the trailhead, looking confused and bewildered. Maybe even flummoxed. Turns out, they hiked 6 miles in the wrong direction, and are pretty much out of ideas as to what to do next. After all, it ain't like there's a bus out there waiting to take dipshit hikers who can't figure out how to walk in a circle back to their Chevy Astro's.

If only we had room in our compact to take the Dad and one of their pasty white sons back over the mountain to fetch their car and save the family outing. Wait a tic...we DO have room! In fact, we have room for them, us, the dog, and the entire Indiana University Marching Band. But, the "Marching Hundred" are smart enough to bring a compass with them, even on day hikes, and thus made it out in one piece. So, just Mr. Woodsy and son then.

Best moment of the car ride? When the dad tried to assure the Velogirl and I that him and his were "savvy hikers." Umm...you walked 6 miles in the wrong direction! You would think that someone in this Huron tracker party would have noticed that the sun was on the same side the entire time, even when they were supposed to be walking home. Or that NOTHING looked familar. Not so. not. so.

NOW...if we had gotten a compact, I'm not sure we would have been able to help this family out and get so much schaudefreude comedy gold to boot. So, even though the MAH-KEY was absolutely the wrong car for us, it was the right car for those lost, slightly directionally challenged folks. So, way to go karma.

Oh, and we TOTALLY got a great looking pumpkin on the way home. It is the "Lord of All Pumpkins." Perfect size, perfectly round shape, and a bright orange hue. I would take a picture to show you, but I believe photographing pumpkins takes their soul away. Call me old fashioned if you wish.