January | 2020 | Michael S. Moore

With dogears at the door and the Malaise-ian flu [which does not bode well for anyone…]

spreading to Linda as her only tangible anniversary present you won’t find the answer here.

In my ongoing delirium the periodic fever dream of a specifically equipped hardly-used Tundra to replace my similarly outfitted hard-used Tundra resurfaced, thanks largely to an internet search which turned up the unlikely appearance of not one but two apparently exact matches

as close as a Denver lot called Georgi’s, leading me to solicit bids to deliver such a vehicle to California, and got many.

In the meantime, everyone illin’, it fell to me to drive

to Gardner’s provisional post office Tuesday before walking the crits

before the thaw turned to mud which by the end of a long sunny afternoon it definitely had.

An afternoon Libre gate picture such as this usually indicates a UPS delivery

to the box [see above] of something that might freeze in the night very much like acrylic paint.

As a day or so later it seemed we’d be going to Denver after all I called to inquire after those perfectly configured Tundras but had no answer so emailed and waited to likewise no avail,

eventually following L’s advice to at least check their references and oboy…the overwhelmingly damning reviews indicated these guys dealt predominantly in suspect salvaged vehicles with suspicious titles and horrible [if any] service. My favorite was one potential customer who said when he showed up three menacing guys just glared at him…a mobbed-up chop shop.

I backed out of those dreams and Thursday while we were at Toyota in Pueblo talked to a sales

rep about keeping an eye out although by then I already had mine on another [perfectly configured] ’06, a little spendy and 1200 miles away but, um, maybe. Anyway under low chill winter skies the town was at its seediest as we ran our errands, paid a last visit to Jorge’s