Call Me Eagle Eyes

Normally I strive to bring you tales of the strange and unusual on this site. And since it's been almost two weeks since my last post and I haven't really found a story that inspired me, I decided to post about my own strange and unusual story.

My car, Tess, and I have been together a long time now. I know what she's like when she's grumpy, tired or cold and she knows what my reaction to is a certain Hannah Montana song is when it comes on the radio and I'm alone in the car (I can neither confirm nor deny that I vigorously sing along using an old gas receipt as a microphone).

So when her tires started behaving oddly I was concerned. I would fill the tire up at our local gas station (with air, not gas -- I learned my lesson) and then the next morning it would practically be flat again. Tess had a slow leak and I knew that I needed to take her in to the shop. Beth took her to Discount Tire Company and they found that there was a screw puncturing the tire (Poor Tess!), but they could fix it. And since we had purchased the tires at Discount Tire Company, there was no charge for the repairs. Boo-yeah!

The next day I drove to work in confidence. I held my head high as I sat at my desk, knowing that Tess was healthy and well. And as I drove home that evening -- possibly rocking out to someone who's name rhymes with Cylie Myrus -- I knew Tess was happy with me, too. But then, when I got out of the car I noticed that my left front hubcap was missing. Someone from the DTC must have been a little lax in putting it back on. The tire looked bare and awful. It was as if Tess had her ankles showing at a BYU dance! I was shocked and horrified. I looked in the immediate area and couldn't see anything. I went to bed that night sad for Tess, and even sorry for Mr. Wallet, who was going to have to lose a little more weight this month than planned.

The next day I came up with the idea that, since I take the same route every day, the hubcap was bound to show up on my way to or from work. As Tess and I left for work I scanned the road and surrounding area, looking for some sign of the missing hubcap. As I was passing a gas station I looked across the street and saw a glimpse of glistening gray plastic in a field. I would have stopped immediately, but I was late for work so I figured I'd investigate further after work.

After work I dashed back to Tess, eager to reunite her and her missing piece of modesty. On the way home, I was sure to scan the roads and surrounding area once again, just in case my hubcap was not in that distant field by the gas station. When I got to the aforementioned spot I pulled over the car and walked into the field. Sure enough, like Charlie and that chocolate bar, I saw a glint of pseudo-metal plastic and excitedly hurried to see the rest. It was my missing hubcap! The Toyota logo was caked with dirt, but it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen (that day on the drive home. . .I love you, Beth! :) )!

As I proudly held my trophy you may think that I was worried that the passing cars would see me as a crazy transient who grabbed an abandoned, junky hubcap from the side of the road and declared it as his own. But as I put the hubcap on the wheel I felt like Prince Charming placing the slipper on Cinderella. It was magical. I returned home to my wife with my arms in the air singing R.E.M's Superman song (it's true, you can ask her). It was a modern-day miracle that I was able to find it again and that it was still in once piece. In the words of Leo, I was the king of the world!

Later that night as my day was ending I looked at my filthy trophy once more -- thinking about how it deserved a good-polish. And how, covered in dirt, it looked so much different than the others. And then... how. . .it really did look different from my other ones. . . . . . .regardless of the dirt. . . . . .

Oh crap. . .

It wasn't my hubcap.