As if we needed more proof that Walt Disney was the world's greatest philosopher, we find out once more just exactly what a small world it is.
Well, see, I have this blog, and I know Miss Janis down in Vidalia, Louisiana. Then, one day in the recent past, I asked if anyone could give me advice to pass along to my sister about adopting a greyhound. Miss Janis suggested I solicit one of her friends for advice, a fellow from way down yonder in Australia (the greatest nation in the world, aside from Alabama) who goes by the name Kitchen Hand. I had not read Kitchen Hand's writings before, and was quite taken with his obvious love for the important thing in life, food.
Anyway, I added him onto my blogroll, then wrote a note to introduce myself and ask him about dogs, and he wrote me back with a very nice response that touched on all the necessary topics. Better yet, it appears he has been drawn into the wooly vortex that is Possumblog, and we welcome his comments and antipodean viewpoints.
AND NOT ONLY THAT, it seems we share a similar mental affliction. To make it worse, his whole FAMILY is all eat up with this dread disease, too.
As it happened, Kitchen Hand (not his real name, by the way) stumbled over to Revolvoblog, my other blog devoted to my undeniably sexy '86 Volvo 240, and left this comment:
So I wander around and check out your blog and find this.
Well, what a coincidence. Actually, probably not. Maybe just an odd conjunction or a fluke.
I have Volvos.
My Volvos:
1977 245DL. Pale blue. 417,000 kilometres. Owned since 1999. One prior owner.
1986 240 wagon. Gold. 445,000 kilometres. Owned since 2004 (I traded a 1978 245DL, red, upwards of 500,000 kilometres, odometer broken). One previous owner who was so eccentrically stickly, he wrote little notes all over the service records - which are six inches thick - querying everything the Volvo dealer did. Everything appears to have been replaced several times - grandpa's axe comes to mind. Runs like a dream.
1975 244DL. 260,000 kilometres, so barely run in. Pensioned off to my sister - she btootles around the countryside in it.
My son's Volvos:
1984 240DL. Silver. 300,000 kilometres plus.
1981 264GL. Blue. About to go to the Rainbow Bridge, or whatever it is for Volvos.
1991 240GLE. Gunmetal. 240,000 kilometres.
My brother's Volvo ... no, I'd better stop there.
I'll finish by saying that whenever there's a family dinner, the street looks like the Volvo Rescue Society.
It's a Volvo after all,
It's a Volvo after all,
It's a Volvo after all,
It's a Vol, Ol, Vo!
Now if we can only get him to give us his recipe for Manifold Squirrel Stew...
Posted by Terry Oglesby at May 12, 2006 09:10 AMHave I ever mentioned that Volvo lovers are truly sick people? Well, not as sick as Saab or Renault owners but at least a tad ill.
Posted by: Larry Anderson at May 12, 2006 09:34 AMWatch it Larry! My dad is a Saab nut. Oh...hmmm...I think you are right.
Posted by: Jordana at May 12, 2006 09:36 AMThey've got squirrels in Oz?
Posted by: Steevil (Dr Weevil's bro Steve) at May 12, 2006 09:40 AMJordana,
If he has ever owned a Saab 93, 95, 96 or 99, I rest my case.
But at least Saabs were based on airplanes not lorries as some other Swedish cars were.
Posted by: Larry Anderson at May 12, 2006 09:42 AMTall words coming from someone who owns an original version Mini. That is still awaiting brakes...
Posted by: Terry Oglesby at May 12, 2006 09:46 AMThe Mini really didn't need brakes in its original form which used a couple of squirrels in a cage as the power source. To stop, one moved the acorn to the opposite side of the cage which caused the squirrels to reverse course thus slowing the car to a stop at which point one disengaged the "transmission" to prevent a reversal of progress. Alternately, one dragged one's feet to effect a stop.
With the drastic decline in squirrels caused by the dietary habits of Volvo owners, a sort of gasoline engine known widely as the "Austin A" and designed circa 1730, was substituted for the squirrel cage thus simultaneously decreasing the available "horsepower" and necessitating a type of "brake" not fully understood by the engineers at "Lockheed", who was apparently a close relative of Joseph Lucas, the Prince of Darkness.
Posted by: Larry Anderson at May 12, 2006 10:02 AMGee whiz. I had no idea "Volvomania" had spread to Australia. That stuff must be really contagious. I hope it doesn't crossbreed with "bird flu."
Seriously, I am glad you guys find joy in those cars. That is a good thing.
Posted by: Stan at May 12, 2006 10:34 AMPish--squirrels! Volvos have long used the much more robust and handsome Swedish ferret for motive power. Further, due to the hefty construction of Volvos, braking can be accomplished quite nicely by colliding with a handy nearby moose or elk.
And you're welcome, Stan.
Posted by: Terry Oglesby at May 12, 2006 11:08 AM[ponder] Hmmm. Axis of Weevil, Anitpodean Extension and Tasmanian Devil Supply Co.? [/ponder]
Posted by: Skinnydan at May 12, 2006 12:20 PMHmmm.
Posted by: Terry Oglesby at May 12, 2006 01:04 PM