THE COLOR AND THE GIRL ARE NOT JUST RIGHT

OK, TLW (The Little Woman) and myself decide to get the Camry, and we talk the deal through as the dealer asks the simple question: “What color would you like?”

Having scouted the showroom floor, I had decided on the nice formal grey that worked well with the grey interior, and lent elegance to the vehicle. Nothing fancy, just a nice solid grey, coming from the finest blacks made and diluted to the correct shade of grey.

Out to the lot we marched, the three of us: the unsuspecting and until now innocent dealer, TLW and the dutiful husband, or #2 man in the outfit. Viewing the different shades of hues we visited upon the red, and when I say red, I mean red. Fire engine hot flaming red, that if parked in my driveway with the coming summer months of heat and humidity would cause me to strip down and run up and down the neighborhood, trying to get cool. Next to it stood a pearl green car, same model and make, just pearl green, looking pea green from the pollen that had fallen that day hiding a real nice color, and finally stood the grey, a car making a statement saying: “Boy am I classy, the valets will fight for my attention, cars will stop on crowed highways to make room for the passing of royalty grey.”

TLW asks a rhetorical question: “What color should I get?” The reason I am #2 in the scheme of things is that I answer rhetorical questions. “GREY!” says I, and wait for the “OK”- I said wait for the “OK”, but it never comes. Instead of; “OK” I get: “Oh no, I don’t want grey, there is a gal who I work with who has grey, and she’ll think I was copying her.” I think the salesman was searching for birds in the sky and I was trying to catch my breath.

?????