This week I almost ran out of gas, so I decided to mosey over to Smith’s and fill up. They were busy, but it was not terrible. I pulled in first behind former Lutheran church minister, Ed Maes. I don’t think he saw me because he was having trouble with the pump and headed to the cashier’s box. Ed had quite a load with him; his car was pulling a small trailer with a riding mower in it and a smaller lawn mower.

After a few minutes of waiting, I backed up and went two places over, thinking the man filling up his car was almost done. Now, I’ve been a married woman for 46 years, but when I looked up, I thought it was Magnum, P.I.; I was sure he had come into town to fill up his red convertible. He looked like Magnum, OK, and he was tall and wearing sporty, Hawaiian-looking clothes. No harm in looking, and I told my Bill the guy reminded me of him. (Good line right!) So, I was inattentive to my surroundings. I did not see the lady in a boxy blue car who was in line behind Magnum.

She was at an angle. She, however, did notice me. This lady was trim and attractive looking, spry and had the appearance of a professional protester as she leaped out of her car. She must have been going somewhere very important. (I thought I saw picket signs hanging out the side of her car.) She had shoulder-length hair, like a silver-gray fox, and a voice that could stop a brass band: “YOU MOVE, I WAS IN LINE, YOU MOVE.” So, I shrugged my shoulders and mouthed, “OK.” That did not please her. She bared her fists at me like in old-timey wrestling matches. The silver screaming fox kept yelling. I couldn’t hear all of what she said; I was trying to back up and not drive over anyone. The gentleman who I knew by then was not Magnum (since I decided he was too tall to be the new one) looked over his shoulder at her. He scrambled and looked like he felt better to get out of Dodge.

Have you seen Saturday Night Fever with John Travolta? This lady gunslinger struck a poise just like him with her fist up in the air and one hip stuck at an angle. I should have been more afraid—she was fearsome—but all I could do was laugh. Big mistake. She became unglued. Magnum got on the road quickly. I couldn’t help it, the more she raged, the more I laughed, not at her, at the situation.

So, to reassure her I was truly giving up the spot, I blew her a kiss. She got gas and heartburn, but I got gas and laughs. Things can be exciting in Edgewood. To the constabulary, “Good Luck Sheriff, I am no Doc Holiday.” Roaring Mouse out.