farewell, huey
And Huey The Truck is off on his journey to Carvana heaven, his factory stereo reinstalled, license plate removed, all traces of both my grandfather and I (save the tool box in the bed and the phone mount, which I had to superglue to the dash; let both be someone else's problem) removed. Strange seeing Vanna, the truck I wanted so much and that I so love, sitting in the driveway without Huey looming over her, though not in a creeper sort of way; while Huey was a good little truck that got both of us through a difficult time, that helped me get all of my grandfather's final wishes realized, this final goodbye to both is long overdue: when it's time, it's time.
TSBMR/0003 :: THE ORIGINAL DICK TRACY, No. 4 (Chester Gould, 1945/1991)
Each week, I make a blind pull from Siri's (randomized) choice of one of the 32 alphabetically-organized shortboxes that constitute my comics collection, (re-)read it, talk about it, and, on (or about) Wednesday, post whatever emerges; you can subscribe via RSS, Apple Podcasts, or your preferred podcast delivery system. This week: "plain boiled turnips!" / RIP cow / smurf ice cream…
While I’m still puzzling over Bowie's SUE blasting through the HomePod at 0445, my working theory is that a house mouse scurried over it and turned it on: annoyance that we have another new tenant balanced by relief that they have rather excellent taste in music.