Home » Uncategorized

In search of a Christmas present that doesn’t exist

Submitted by on Monday, 30 November 2009 No Comment

Damn you, Juan Pablo Montoya.

No, I’m not talking about that little hoo-ha at the end of the last race that led NASCAR officials to tell you to park it for two laps. That was as much Tony Stewart’s fault as yours – didn’t  your mom ever tell you that the person who retaliates last is the one who gets punished? – though Big Guy had Boots near tears with his “you driver got in trouble” taunting.

Instead, I’m cursing you because you started driving the Target car only this year. Which means that I can find a Montoya No. 42 car with the wrong sponsor or a Target car from years ago with the wrong number. I can find a Target car from your open-wheel days, but Boots knows the difference between Indy car and NASCAR.

But for the love of Google, I cannot find a No. 42 Target stock car. And that’s a problem, because Boots has his heart set on one.

How is it that the guys keep wishing for Christmas toys that don’t exist? Last year it was Big Guy and the Batman skateboard available only in Germany or for an ungodly price on eBay. My parents didn’t realize how lucky they had it. We grabbed the Wish Book, wrote our too-long lists and that was the end of it. There was no requesting toys created only in our imaginations.

The closest I’ve come to the the dreamed-of No. 42 Target car is a $59.99 model on the NASCAR site. Even if I could convince myself to spend that much on a toy for a kid who doesn’t get the concept of “collectible,” it’s not available until June. Does Santa ever issue IOUs?

I’ve alerted my truck-driver network – a brother and a brother-in-law – to be on the lookout for the car, but I honestly don’t think there is one. There’s not even a Montoya blanket that was going to be the consolation prize after I found a Ryan Newman throw for Big Guy. The closest I could come to parallel presents were flags, which I plan to bill as decorations for their rooms.

I’m also practicing excuses for Christmas morning, when big blue eyes gaze up sadly and ask, “Why, Mommy? Why?”

  • The elves didn’t get around to making it? That smacks of “Santa just decided to blow you off.”
  • You asked for Pablo Montoya and Santa didn’t know who you were talking about. Great. Let’s bill Santa as an anal retentive jerk who goes all control freak on a 4-year-old.
  • Santa couldn’t find one? So much for the North Pole as a magical place where all Christmas toys are made.
  • It must have fallen out of the sleigh along the way. I’ll keep looking for it.

Hey, that one might just work. It also could explain a June delivery.

Copyright 2009 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.

Similar Posts:

    None Found

Popularity: 1% [?]

Comments are closed.