Ted was looking kinda sulky as I walked towards him in the Walmart parking lot.
Yeah, his name is Ted, so what?
Why would I name my minivan? Why do the birds sing, why does blah blah blah, stop asking so many questions so I can get one with my train of thought before I get distracted.
Oooh bunny pics!
Oh yeah, back to Ted.
His name just seemed to fit him. His engine tap dances the way Fred Astaire did in ‘The Gay Divorcee.’ Plus he’s the strong yet silent type, ie no alarm system. Not to mention he has a bad habit of popping his gasket like a cranky old man every now and then.
It used to be Fred, but honestly, the kids kept calling Ted so it stuck.
Back to the parking lot at Walmart…I parked him around some cute cars. A baby blue Prius, a cheeky cherry red Camry and a muy caliente Audi. But when I returned, there poor Ted sat, all alone, with only a crow sitting on his hood for company.
And honestly, he seemed kinda grumpy.
That’s when I started to wonder about the things Ted whispers to other parked cars when I’m not looking.
“Sup, it’s not the gas mileage that counts; it’s the way my engine revs, baby, vroom!”
“Ola Chica, your sexy hatchback is making me overheat!”
Last, and probably least favorite…
“Woah honey, you’re really cranking my driveshaft!”