Sitting at the red light, I wasn't revving my Harley. The Buick wasn't shaking with the output from it's custom car stereo system. It doesn't take all that much to make the Buick quiver, but the little Skylark was happily grooving to a Rimsky-Korsakov polonaise on WRR 101.1 f.m. Stunned that I was able to identify the music as a polonaise, I patted myself on the back for surviving Mrs. Bathel's piano lessons in the late Sixties, and cranked up the volume. That's when I realized the teenage passenger of the car in the left-turn lane was trying to get my attention. He seemed to be pointing at the Buick's backseat. Could it be that my volume was intruding upon his audio space? Was he a Nice Young Man alerting me to a malfunctioning brake light?
We both rolled down our windows a couple inches. "What is that???," he asked. So glad not to be the victim of a carjacking, I answered, "It's a papier mache lizard pushing a vacuum cleaner, but it's upside down back there!"
The lizard has resided in my office for six years, vacuuming day and night. My job ended today. Our little school site is now highly coveted real estate near the "High Five" interchange. The world of real estate development has enough scheming and coercing for Hamlet's Polonius and an assortment of spies. It is a sad day.