It's been brought to my attention that today is 10/10/10. So to celebrate(?), the first sentence of your writing today will begin with: On a scale of one to ten...
One of our guests for dinner last night was also one of our wedding photographers, and he brought with him a disk with the pictures he'd taken, as well as a slideshow (with music!) that he'd created out of the best of them. I could literally watch that show all day.
Anyway, I'll get around to uploading all the pictures somewhere at some point, but I thought I'd share a few here:
On a scale of one to ten, the car cowering before me was a minus five. Only one of the three tires in place looked like it was even in the neighborhood of full, and I suspected no one around knew where the fourth tire was lurking.
The windshield had a crack wandering from the lower right corner to the upper left, and I could see at least five different colors on the exterior. Where the paint wasn't obliterated by rust, that is.
"Does it even start?" I asked without much hope for an answer I wanted to hear.
"Sometimes," came the reply from the mechanic. "More often when it's warm out. She seems to like the sun."
I wandered around to the back of the car to inspect the trunk. It was, to my great surprise, properly shut and I had to get him to pop it from up front. Which he did by reaching through the open window, since the driver's side door was jammed.
It opened without so much as a squeak of a hinge and a smile appeared on my lips. My grin only grew larger when I saw the downright roomy confines of its interior.
"It's perfect," I announced, much to the man's surprise. "I'll take it."
You could, I had surmised after some brief mental calculations, fit enough explosives in there to level my office building. And maybe even that horrible coffee shop across the street from it.