Coffee Chronicles …Acri-What?

Hey Coffee People!

For those of you who aren’t familiar with Doc, he is a multifaceted individual. He is obsessed with a few things: decluttering his RV storage area, the same area that the Mayor insists on stuffing with items that may get used, i.e. giant Jenga blocks, hot dog warmers, pizza ovens, patio rugs, patio chairs, patio tables …etc. Evidently, the Mayor thinks that bigger motorhomes equals unlimited storage ability, and his other obsession is the Acrimoto. 

His marriage pretty much governs his first obsession. 

I don’t want to belabor this, but as soon as you get hooked by that one, you know, the love of your life, there will be sacrifices. Married to the HB, I have learned that I have had to sacrifice half a pot of coffee every morning, and at night, I sacrifice all but one-quarter of a king-sized bed and I am allotted a limited amount of cover. 

Sometimes it’s a small price to pay, but I guess we were supposed to read the small print at the bottom of the vows.

But I digress.

Last evening, as the HB and I sat to watch the Dodgers, a frantic knock at the RV door jarred us from our recliners. I opened it to find a breathless and sweaty Doc standing there.

“Hey! Do you have a sharp edge, maybe a utility knife? The Doc said, panting and furtively looking around.

“Yes. What’s up?” I asked, looking around, too, thinking we may have to fight off a bear or something.

“Get it! Quick! I need your help!” He gasped, then took off at a sprint toward his RV.

“What’s going on?” The HB asked.

“I have no idea,” I told her. “Doc needs my help.” I ran to my storage space where my tools are kept and got my knife. I briefly looked at my bear repellant spray but decided it might be overkill, and then I jogged off in the direction that I’d seen Doc take off.

I blew a kiss to the HB and told her, “If we’re not back in twenty minutes, call the police.”

“What should I tell them?” She yelled after me.

I shrugged.

When I arrived at Doc’s RV, two spaces away, he was standing over his patio rug, looking pensive. One hand was on his hip, and the other was at his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully.

“‘Sup?” I asked.

“Does this rug make my butt look big?”

“WHAT?!?”

“Yep, I’m done with this.” Then I watched in awe as Doc cut a perfectly good patio rug in half for it to fit into a box he felt was more to his liking. “It’s just too big.” 

— 

Doc is also fixated on the Acrimoto. Unbeknownst to anyone else in the group, his sole motivation for getting to Eugene was to meet the people who manufacture the Acrimoto, a two-person, electric, three-wheeled. motorcycle-looking thing with doors on it. He saw this vehicle in Vegas a few years back. Without fail, every single time we get together, somehow, someway, Doc will steer the conversation into trying to wrangle the fellas who are within earshot into cosigning for him and all of us getting one of these contraptions.

Somehow, he convinced the HB that we should go with the Mayor and him while he test-drove one of those things. I’m pretty sure he hit on her weakness: an offer of oyster crackers and clam chowder as payment afterward.

We arrived at the plant and watched him strap into the ‘whatever it is’; he was like a kid in a candy store, and he was gone for nearly thirty minutes. Upon his return, you could not miss the Cheshire Cat grin on his mug. All the way to the restaurant, he spoke excitedly of the features it had and about how if he had one, he would do all the Stater Bros runs in his new e-thingamabob and that he should get a fleet and rent them out to people who wanted to toodle around Rancho. 

He was so animated and distracted that he nearly missed the off-ramp. Oh, but no worries; he stopped in the lane and turned left to rectify that. Yikes. I think my life flashed before my eyes. This was much more traumatic to me than the Professor's attempt on my life on the way to Yosemite. 

Really Doc? 

Oh goody, today’s another field trip. 

Hey, Doc, I’ve got this, I’ll drive today. Whew!

Drink ‘em if ya got ‘em.

#coffeehousechronicles