An Aversion to BLUE???

He said he couldn’t bear to touch or be near blue things.

Dale, car salesman extraordinaire at the local Buick dealership, is quite seriously phobic about blue things. He doesn’t recall when it started, but he knows that he always has to have a black pen on his person lest he should be offered a blue one to sign a credit card slip. Apparently, if he doesn’t have a black pen with him at the cashier, he will quietly demand one be handed to him before he is able to sign anything. A cashier may stand there extending a blue pen, but he will refuse. Also, he said he must have other people move the blue cars around the lot because he won’t. I asked him how he manages to avoid blue, seeing as it is the most popular color for vast numbers of people. He replied that he must be very careful. Constantly. My heart went out to him.

He experiences the relatively rare cyanophobia, or fear of the color blue.

See, I would not be able to handle that; the particular wave lengths that form to create blue are the ones I most favor and I go to some serious lengths to surround myself with things of that hue.

Today, however, I traded in my blue Toyota hybrid for a purple Rendezvous.

Sorry, Amethyst.

Being that I am not currently bringing in major bucks, and seeing that we have a Bat Mitzvah to throw next year, we’re cutting corners. This move will save us a nice chunk every month. The Highlander has served me well and although I will be sad to part with it, I like the savings and I have driven two previous Rendezvous (sand and blue) before so I am well acquainted with all that vehicle’s configurations and its incredibly smooth ride. But it looks like a sneaker, eh?

We went to sign papers this afternoon, after dropping off Boo to an overnight party. Initially, a black SUV was all the dealership had, and thinking we’d ensured all our needs were met with the deal. we checked out the car in question while papers were being drawn up. I sat in the driver’s seat, I fiddled with the radio, I opened all the little drawers and pulled down all the roof compartments to peek inside. One plastic box in the roof, with a depressable 4 inch central ball, baffled me and I sought out one of the showroom boys (they ARE! Barely post high school car movers) to figure it out. He peered into it and informed me that the compartment in question was a garage door opener, only the Flintstone’s version! This new Rendezvous does not come with an electronic garage opener; in this compartment goes the gizzy thingy that comes with the garage door so when I push the ball it will, in turn, press the gizzy. Low tech, much?

Anyway, during our exploration of the black car, we realized that it didn’t have a third row, a firm stipulation of the purchase. Being able to seat 7 is something we need, as we’re often schlepping in laws and our kids’ friends; it’s a must. As the papers were just then being signed, we ran into the showroom to throw a spanner into the works on this deal. Dale was apologetic and deftly located a suitable vehicle about 60 miles away. We signed away the Highlander and I will pick up the grapemobile sometime this week.

Before I do, however, I must locate the perfect blue thing for the inside.