Super Bowl hijinks

To paraphrase the Chairman of the Board, this could only happen to a guy like me in a town like this...

So, it's Super Bowl Sunday and I'm feeling lazy. Don't want to get off the couch. Didn't even want to crawl from under the covers.

But, I peeked out, poured caffeine and watched a talking head on "CBS Sunday Morning" observe that television executives put so much reality TV on the air because they've discovered we have reptilian brains.

When I finally figured venturing out would be worth the effort, I pointed the Xterra in the general direction of buddy Matt Shelton's house.

Along the way, I discover that a favorite station has changed formats -- to classic country! So, I shift into high gear, so to speak, and belt out "Between Her Blue Eyes and Jeans" along with Conway Twitty somewhere between Broadway and the Lovell Road exit.

I pull into the driveway about the time Shelton arrives with a haggard look on his face. Turns out his car had blown up -- literally -- on the interstate the day before. He is OK. His car isn't.

We decided we needed to shore up on refreshments before the big game and other guests arrived. We walked to my car. Shelton was in literal mid-sentence telling me about his automotive woes when the key in my ignition was turned.

Nothing happened.

Attempt No. 2: Dead as a doornail.

Off we go to Walmart, where the two jokers in automotive are yelling at each other as we search for a battery.

"Forget this," I say. "Let's go get the drinks."

We do so and walk back. All appears calm on the automotive front.

One clerk with two teeth is grinding out a key for a patron. "Now, I will tell you that this may not work except on the doors," he says.

The clerk tells us he'll be with us in a minute, finishes up the key, then helps two people who arrived before we did.

Then he finally rings up my battery but keeps us standing at the door for two minutes before he finally decides to finish with the previously mentioned customer (who needed help in more ways than one) and ring us out the locked door.

We had better luck at the wings place, where the guy in the back gave Shelton our order without waiting for the cash. Shelton paid anyway.

"Those guys never talk to people," the girl up front said.

Battery changed and bellies full, our group sat down to watch bad football and worse advertisements. Thanks to an unexpected arrival and J.M.'s antics, we had a good time anyway.

At least nobody else's car decided to die.