I went out for a ride and I never came back...

Floating on a wave of optimism after posting so smoothly, I ventured forth into a glorious Lone Star evening to purchase three Quick Pick tickets--one for each college education. The sky is a lovely shade that I can only describe as the hue of vanilla ice cream when the carton is placed on top of the fridge instead of into the freezer. You discover the mistake the next morning, when it is certainly not convenient, especially before coffee. The ice cream has melted all down the side of the fridge; you see the gelatins, dyes, and other mystery components that have separated and recongealed into subtle agate bands of color. Alas, you find it has also affixed the kids' drawings, pizza coupons, emergency phone numbers, cutesy magnets, and Christmas card photos to the fridge in a very enduring way. Into this twilight glow, please imagine thin bands of canned salmon, not yet mixed with Campbell's Cream of Mushroom, and sprinkled lightly with violet powdered tempera paint from your first grade classroom, with the rust from the a/c evaporator coils you can't afford to replace. The only thing needed to complete this idyllic vision is a red and white 1961 Plymouth Sport Fury with push-button transmission and rectangular steering wheel.