Ray and me...

went for a ride today.  Okay, I know that the grammatically correct version should be Ray and I, but Ray and me just sounded better.  Oh, have I mentioned that I named my car Ray?  I'm trying to like him better - and I think we just haven't really gotten used to each other yet.  When you are accustomed to driving the Ford Motor Company equivalent of a tank, a normal-sized SUV takes a bit of getting used to.  Ray is much smaller, lighter and his engine only has six cylinders.  He doesn't have quite as much get up and go as his predecessor, but we're trying to focus on his good points.  Ray runs, his air conditioner works and I can fill up his tank for a mere $30.  I named him Ray for several reasons - mainly because that's a name I've used a lot over the years.  Remember in Field of Dreams when Kevin Costner's wife yells, "Ray!  Dinner!" and Ray Liotta and the rest of the ghost team mock him?  Well, when Tim used to be holed up in his computer room playing that dang World of Warcraft for hours on end, world without end, amen  (I am not exaggerating) the only way I would get his attention to come out and eat dinner, which by the way was terribly overcooked by the time he would actually stop playing and eat, was to scream "Ray! Dinner!" at the top of my lungs.  Worked every time.  Eventually.  I also, over the years, recognized the startling similarities between my husband and Ray Barone of Everybody Loves Raymond fame.  You know how Ray does his best to avoid actually doing anything other than work and what he wants to do?  Well, he and my husband may have been separated at birth.  So that's reason number two.  And finally, given that all of my previous vehicles have been named Bruce (after Springsteen or Willis, take your pick) I asked my friend Dorene for a suggestion as to what to name this new SUV.  She suggested naming it after her late husband, Ray, who was a dear, dear man who loved God and cairn terriers, in that order.  "He'll work hard for you," she said.  So, Ray Isuzu it is.  He's not terribly speedy, but that's a good thing.  We went to the SuperTarget and he waited patiently in the parking lot while I putzed around in the store for a while.  He didn't complain when I loaded the passenger seat up with soda, paper, envelopes and dog food for Aggie.  He didn't say a word when I crammed my old lady cart into the back seat.  He started right up and we chugged across town toward home and found a nice, shady parking spot right in front of the apartment.  Yes, I think Ray and I are going to get along just fine - as long they don't have me committed when I yell, "Ray! Dinner!" at the gas station fuel pump.