That old line from Bobbie Burns, the one about "the best laid plans of mice and men", also applies to those who find themselves with an unexpected little windfall. Some friends had invited me to play bingo, and danged if I didn't win a couple hundred. I figured I'd get a decent used guitar; I haven't had one for quite a while and have missed the serenity a few strums can impart. So, I headed to the part of town near the university; there are some good music shops in the vicinity and I planned to start my shopping there.
The first store was out of stock on the ones in my price range. The second store is a few blocks away, and halfway there the music I heard was 'kerthunk squeak squeak squeak thonk', and the accompanying light show was provided by all my dashboard lights blinking to life. There's a mechanic about a block away, one that I've used in the past, and I managed to wrestle the beast into a parking space in front of his shop. One of the guys came out and looked under the hood, pointing to a now useless serpentine belt (I didn't even know there was such a thing). We go inside and the gal behind the counter (she and her husband own the place) gives me an estimate; seeing as how I fortuitously have the money on hand I tell them to go ahead and fix it. Sigh. And a small inner "waaaahhh".
As I'm sitting in the waiting area, the owner's son comes in and sits at the parts counter to eat his lunch; one of the other mechanics comes in and tells the woman, "Hey, there's a car in the shop with an Obama sticker on it." Her son pipes up, "Do ya want me to get a can of paint and spray the N word on it?", to which his mom responds with a laugh and "Just eat your lunch." The mechanic who's working on my car comes in and hears this exchange, looks at me as he turns bright red, hands me the keys and tells me the car's done. Then he just looked at his boss and shook his head as he headed back into the shop.
I wrote a check and gave it to the woman, thanking her for fixing my car even though it has Obama stickers on it. And I pointedly left on the counter the half-dozen business cards she'd asked me to give to my friends if I liked their work.
For some reason I was thinking about strigils as I headed for my car. A strigil was a curved piece of metal that the ancient Greeks and Romans used to scrape dirt off their skin. Some scholars have suggested that the device could leave you cleaner than soap. Maybe that's why I was thinking of strigils, I've always felt dirty when in the presence of those who think racial slurs are either warranted or amusing. That and the fact that there are now people on DU who would have offered to buy the spray paint for the kid.