C. Buddha's Hasty Musings

Yes, sometime I will probably stop trying to write blues lyrics in the titles… but today is not the day to do so, because yesterday, I ran over a chameleon sunning himself on the highway. When chameleons are chilling, sometimes they do this curious push up routine where they puff out their chests and bob up and down (apparently, this is the best time to catch them – in order to eat them, of course – at least my Thai friends tell me so). I was on my way to work in the Crown, cruising along in fifth gear and enjoying engine noise, the wind in my hair, and the way the asphalt turns into streams of buttery gold in the intense summer morning sun.
The stretch of highway I was on is a long straightway with no intersecting roads , so I was only looking about twenty feet ahead of my car. By the time I saw the chameleon doing push ups, it was too late to swerve. I felt a small disturbance in the force as the tiniest crunching sound was heard from under the front left tire. Then all was still.
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Last week a coworker said he had seen the exact same model of car as mine on the edge of town, so I hopped in the Kujira to go check it out… there it was, in dark blue, indeed looking pretty damn similar to the very car I was driving. As I’ve been looking for spare parts (most noticeably a missing piece of chrome trim from the front), this was a truly exciting find. Who would have thought another specimen, in seemingly good condition, could be found in the very city I brought mine to? I got stuck thinking about what to do next, though.
If I expressed interest in the car, I was afraid the owner would ask too much for it. Would the better play be to keep an eye on it and wait for the situation to change (the car might appear with a for sale sign some day, or break down)? In the end, I took a gamble on being straightforward and went to talk to the owner with Nam yesterday afternoon. The car wasn’t in the parking space of what turned out to be an insurance company, but the lady inside told us it was her grandfather’s and not a customer’s , as we had begun to fear. She told us they couldn’t sell the car, as it was all they had, but we left our number in case they ever wanted to sell it, and told the lady that as we wanted it for parts, it didn’t even have to be in running condition.
So that’s that. Someday, I may have a chance at parts, and until then, it’s nice to know there’s a friend running around town. I didn’t get a chance to see the car up close or verify if it’s the same model or not, but maybe I’ll make onther visit sometime to do that and speak to the old man. At the very least, I’d like to know how he came by it.