censored memories

"What is it with guys and their wheels?"

I've asked this question countless times before. I still do, only now, it's more like a rhetorical question than an actual inquiry.

(My second post in two days. In other places, this'll be considered spamming. I call it 'me thrashing about'.)

I remember when I was a high school sophomore, where curfews are implemented at home and I had fun breaking it since my parents don't fully grasp the meaning of the word GROUNDED anyways. At one time, my Dad had no choice but to lend his wheels to a nephew. It's still  6 in the evening, and he is restless, constantly checking out the window if his nephew's returned yet. He was totally worked up over it, worrying and thinking up worst-case scenarios.

I go home at 10 at night after one of my jaunts with my friends, and my Dad's already fast asleep since 8 o'clock.

Whoa.

Even now, there are some guys I know who could talk for hours about cars, engines, the latest and the hottest. They could sit by the windows checking out this set of wheels, how cool that one is, how not cool this one is. They are worse than film critics and, unlike the film critics, they don't earn their living by handing over their analyses.

It's funny, at the same time annoying. Well, yeah, it does, when you hear nothing but the same talk over and over....and then you don't hear anything new anyway, because it's just like a broken record on replay. Yes. Broken record. On constant replay.

But I learned to accept it as part of my listening routine. It's their thing. Guys and their wheels. Kinda like "Billy Crawford and his caps & do-rags or bandannas". Or "Britney Spears and her scene-stealers".

Or "my nephew Mel and fried chickens". Or "my mom and mobile phone games".

Or "Jhing and books." Or "Jhing and movies."

Or "Jhing and She and Mama Roj."

(I just had to put that last one.)

All of the abovementioned, are INSEPARABLE.