I cannot drive.
Amazing, isn't it? At my age? I still have a learner's permit and am afraid to break 20 MPH. Clearly there's something wrong here.
The problem is I'm lazy. I also don't go many places. Everything around here is within walking distance, including my friends' houses. Clearly I needed intensive.
Alan is a friend of my mom's. He's a pretty cool guy, if occasionally coming off as a bit thick. He's also a master conversationalist and a stock broker. He takes a fuckload of vacations and plays golf.
He also, to my shock, collected comics.
Emphasis on collected
. His collection, which is big enough to wallpaper his insanely large house, peters out around the seventies. I, naturally, was thrilled. I was looking for a chance to turn myself into a comic book nerd, here's my chance.
So a deal was worked out. Alan wanted to unload his comics, I wanted said comics, my mom wanted me to learn to drive.
So now every time I take a lesson I get comics. Nifty, no?
My first payload came in this week. It's about half adjectiveless X-Men
, and half Archie Comics
—not the superheroes, mind you, the teens from Riverdale, with a Josie and the Pussycats
thrown in for good measure. Join me, won't you, true believers?