Car Phones - Friend Or Foe

Stretch Marks On Back - Car Phones - Friend Or Foe

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The other day I was sitting in my car at a traffic light, minding my own business, listening to a J.J. Jackson tune on the radio, when I noticed the guy in the Rx-7 next to me was talking on his car phone. I looked across the intersection and there, in a silver Lexus, was some guy talking on his car phone.

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Stretch Marks On Back

Forget that it's illegal in this state to talk on car phones while driving. Forget that these guys were driving best cars than me. What I want to know is, who are these self foremost people who think their lives are marked by having such great significance, or consequence, in that they can't wait until they get back to the office to retrieve their phone message about the plumber not being able to make it until tomorrow because he is up to his armpits in an emergency?

I had to discover, for myself, what made these hand held symbols of the prosperous entrepreneurs so desirable. In other words, I wanted to look as cool as the guy next to me.

I shopped nearby to find the best deal on a car phone.
(Note: Those of the trillion of us who do not own one will be glad to know that you can possess this very influential status symbol, if you can afford any blend of two body limbs.)

I told the salesman I was looking for the best budgeted piece of tool he had. He said, "You mean, the cheapest." How could I argue with a guy that was this incredibly perceptive?

The salesman, Chaz, told me the least high-priced car phone, called the Alcoa and String Model, was not much less than the next higher priced model, The Junior Executive. The Junior administrative sounded like it was for a real up-and-comer, and even though, most of the time, I'm a down-and-outer, I decided to go with it.

Chaz then told me that I would probably want call waiting just in case that all foremost call came in from my Hollywood agent telling me that he got me a staff writing job on Sunrise Sermonette. I said, "Okay." Then, he suggested I needed caller Id, just in case I wanted to make sure it was that all foremost call from Hollywood. Chaz then tried pushing a car phone answering engine on me, just in case that Hollywood call came in while I was using the men's room at the Texaco.

I must have certainly impressed this guy since he told me that he had installed car phones in all from stretch limos to Winnebagos, but he had never had the opening to setup one in a Dodge Dart.

At last, the day came. I made sure everybody I ever made eye caress with, in my life, had my car phone number. I drove nearby expecting, at any minute, to hear the foremost ring of my high-priced play toy. Finally, I was going to look as impressive as those guys driving down the organery State Parkway at sixty-five miles per hour, with their phones tucked under their chins, while taking unabridged notes from their home offices, and steering the car with their knees.

So, I waited. And I waited. Sixteen hours and no calls. I stopped at a phone booth and called my car to see if it was working. It was. Three weeks went by and no calls. I even changed my car phone amount to be very close to that of the neighborhood Chinese restaurant, just so I might get a call for a take-out order of Wor Shew Opp from a local dyslectic. Not even a wrong number.

Then, on the twenty-seventh day, the phone rang. I couldn't believe it. Just the sound of a kindly voice is all I wanted to hear. I listened intently to what the caller had to say. Eventually, I got to speak and am now the proud owner of a side of beef from the Meat of the Month Club.

I became despondent. I spent all day driving nearby and slept in the back seat, all night, in my driveway.

I finally got a call from someone I recognized. It was from Chaz, who told me my first cost was overdue and that he was going to have to repossess my Junior administrative with the call-waiting, the caller Id and the answering machine. I told him I would be there in the morning to have it disinstalled, or whatever they call it when they rip one of these babies out.

I still had the car phone for one more night. I was going to get some use out of it, or I was going to die trying. So, I found out where Chaz lived, parked my car at the end of his road and used my Junior administrative for the last time. First, I dialed facts and got Chaz' phone number. Then I called him and disguised my voice and asked him if he had Prince Albert in the can. Then, I called again and asked him if his refrigerator was running. And then, a devilish grin crossed my lips as I watched those pizza delivery trucks pull up to Chaz' house every half hour for the next six hours.

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