Bill of Tire-d Sales at the Fork in the Road

I pull up to a stop at the intersection of Bell and 45th. The name of the business across the intersection at 10 o'clock has the big bold name of most likely the business owner of a tire place. The name is Bill Williams.

I think, "Bill? Isn't that short for William?"

My neXt think is the combo "William Williams", who would want to be called that? Who would name their child that?

Then I smile aNd add a middle name, "William William Williams", I wonder if anyone has that name?

My neXt think is the artificial in my head at this moment conversation:

Questioner: "What is your name?"

WiWiWi: "Well, my last name is Williams, and my first and middle are William's, too"

Questioner: "What?!?!? You have two names and they both Williams?"

WiWiWi: "No, it's William William Williams"


The light turns green and I drive east.

My neXt think is a prompted because of the previous duplicate triplicate WiWiWi names causes a Sirhan B Sirhan to pop into my brain, and I have a fleeting RFK-sadness nostalgic moment to my age very young, a remembrance of death. The clouds that appeared wanting to rain all day around me finally let loose their drops after going a few blocks.

I slowly become unsad, focusing on driving in heavier traffic than before, plus the sky's tears lightly, while my windshield wiper gently wipes.

One and a half miles later I see a restaurant sign declaring itself the Mexican Food Embassey underneath its name. Its name in huge letters, the embassey claim in smaller. It is the most luxurious Mexican food restaurant in town, grandfatherly, not the newest, but possibly the grandest, my opinion. I wonder how you become qualified to call yourself an Embassey of something? What roles would you perform as the Mexican Food Ambassador? Would that include settling tequila trade disputes? Then I realize I have been spelling embassy wrong. Then I am minorly mystified why ambassador is an A word and embassy is an E word.

I drive slower than normal in the rush hour traffic and a white, (car is it?), gets behind me very close, too close, no wait, is that a hearse behind me?, a dead person tailgating maybe right behind me possibly in this traffic?

I go around a broad circular shaped section of the street after a semi-nervous minute, only to discover by the mirror with a now better angle view that it is just a pickup truck with a very strange camper top. So probably no dead people have been with me in traffic at the moment, well, hopefully no dead people with me on the go.

The sky clears a mile later and I eventually find the place to guide my wife towards in her vehicle, overcoming terrible cell phone and internet service provider sporadic outages.

Things I Expect To Find In The Parking Lot of a Transmission Repair Shop:
A) Icky exotically colored pools and streaks of most likely poisonous fluids from vehicles
B) Circular ring shaped metal discards from shattered transmissions
C) Absolutely no vegetation in the dirt parking lot due to constant traffic and chemicals

Thing I Didn't Expect To Find In The Parking Lot of a Transmission Repair Shop:
A) A metal kitchen fork

I wondered if the fork would still be there when I returned in the future to get our repaired vehicle.

Answer: Yes, the fork was still in the same spot about a week later, and No, I didn't take a picture of it.

Knowing me, you are probably wondering why I didn't take a picture of the fork on either occasion.

Answer: I knew that when I would eventually write up these events that you would have eXpected me to take that picture, but then I decided to surprise you by not taking it. I know, it was a very difficult process to not take the picture, or save the fork, but I managed to do it. It was eXtremely difficult, especially the part about not saving The Lost Fork.