Impossible Lack of Observation

My wife got a new SUV. This week's column deals with just how very little I know about moving vehicles.

Hey, here's a fresh new idea! Honestly though, "things I don't know" is probably Morsch's largest pool of possible topics.

Outta Leftfield: Inability to answer new-car questions exposes his true colors
Published: Tuesday, November 16, 2010
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor

Here’s how little I know about cars: I’m not even sure what color the one is that has been parked in my driveway for the past five years.

Impossible.

The Blonde Accountant got a new car last weekend. Actually, it’s an SUV because accountants are in most cases better compensated in life than are journalists, most of whom still go to work in a horse and buggy because hay is more affordable than gasoline these days.

The horse and buggy is just about the only thing more out-dated than the printed newspaper.

The new ride is what I would call a maroon color and replaces one that I always thought was a blue, or at the very least, a charcoal blue-gray something-or-other.

Oh ho, what wacky lack of knowledge will Morsch come up with next!

So it came as no surprise that our weekend dinner table conversation centered on the new vehicle and its advantages over the one it replaced. Quite innocently and in passing, I happened to mention the color of the old car as blue.

Fictional Conversation Alert! TBA will correct Morsch; Morsch will still not understand the TBA; she'll put him down; he'll make an ironic comment.

“No, it wasn’t blue, it was sage green,” said The Blonde Accountant, a statement confirmed by both the kids.

“What in tarnation is sage green? That car was blue,” I insisted, believing even at my advanced age, I can still recognize the difference between blue and green.

"Tarnation"?

That of course led me down a path for which I was unprepared.

“What color is our couch?” she said. “What color are the walls in our bedroom? What color are my eyes?”

Wow, she's really calling him out. Can it be that he doesn't know the color of ANY of these things? And aren't all men equally as oblivious? Ha! Oh, what a world.

Duh. I don’t know sage green from the Green Hornet. I have no idea what color the couch is, even when I’m sitting on it. And I didn’t realize the bedroom walls were painted. Hard to believe sometimes that I am a formally trained observer.

He brings up a good point - how DID he get his job?

“Green, green and green,” I responded, figuring green was the answer of the day at that point. “Uh, and your eyes are beautiful, too,” I said.

It was all I could muster given the fact that we went from talking about the color of the old SUV — that we no longer own or care about given the shiny new vehicle now parked in the driveway — to talking about eye color.

That's a big shift alright. I mean, to go from talking about colors to talking about colors. Who wouldn't be thrown?

Fortunately, I was somewhat redeemed the next day when I asked the neighbor lady what color the old car was and she confirmed that she thought it was indeed a blue-gray charcoal. Of course, she couldn’t answer what color The Blonde Accountant’s eyes are, but the neighbor lady got in quite a bit less trouble with her answer than I did.

So the neighbor knows what color the car is, but Morsch doesn't know the color of the couch in his own house?

What all of this illustrates is my total lack of interest in cars.

It would if he only failed to note the color of the car... does this also illustrate a total lack of interest in the bedroom, his wife, and the couch?

That is because I really could care less about anything to do with a car other than having it start when I turn the key and for it to get me where I need to go without breaking down along the way.

The extent of my car maintenance program includes brushing the sandwich crumbs off the car seats and onto the floor mats.

Oh Morsch! You never miss an opportunity to make a "spilling food on myself" joke, do you?

And that’s why shopping for a new car is no fun at all for me.

Here's a fresh, original topic: people don't like shopping for new cars. Would you believe I've never, ever heard anyone discuss this before?

I have on more than one occasion walked into a car dealership, pointed to the cars in the lot, and said, “Do you have any horses?”

(Insert Rimshot)

I do not have a preference on leather vs. cloth seats; I don’t care about a sun roof; and I am only slightly concerned about how many miles per gallon the vehicle gets only because I prefer not to have to fill it up every other block.

Hey, who was the columnist who was just ranting about how a horse and buggy is better than a car because of how expensive gas is?

I do not care what color it is, although my sense is that the next time I need a new car, I can pretty much guarantee it won’t be sage green. I do not need to have that conversation ever again.

Sir, your audience demands that you have this conversation again! The laughs it produces are worth their weight in gold.

When the old car does not run anymore, that’s when I will go looking for a different car. In fact — and I hate to put this in writing because it will be used against me some day — Younger Daughter is the likely beneficiary of my next car purchase because she will get the one that I am driving now, which is of course a charcoal blue-gray something-or-other color. (Same as the couch, I think.)

To paraphrase the creepy old general in White Christmas: "We have established the fact that he doesn't care much about cars."

Still, it’s kind of nice to have a new vehicle in the driveway, which I will likely get to drive occasionally if I can just be a little more prepared the next time the eye color question comes up.

Suggestion for preparation: observe the color of your wife's eyes.

In fact, since my car and the sandwich crumbs inside it are 5 years old now, you might say that the new vehicle makes me a little green with envy.

"Green with envy" - did he use that one in his post about the color of the doctor's office? Nope, he didn't. And I can't believe he missed that opportunity. But there's one opportunity he didn't miss: working in a final "spilling food" joke.