Theo Martinson was just a solid, middle class, hard working guy; the type folks could depend on.  The kind of guy most any employer in Fort Stockton would love to have.  He’d show up for work every day, give it everything he had until quitting time, and go home feeling like he’d accomplished something. He knew the rules and lived by them, enabling him to earn a comfortable living while refusing to bend them or break them for the sake of company profits, which held him back from an upper management position.

He and Faye, his wife of four decades, had married as soon as Theo graduated college and settled down in a modest 3 bedroom, 2 bath ranch over on San Jacinto Street, the only house they’d ever lived in.  When folks asked him why they didn’t move out to something on the golf course, or in one of the new developments with bigger houses and a tonier address, he’d always explain that they had everything they needed right where they were.

He and Faye hardly ever had a cross word, the only exception being when she found out about his side piece.  They used to do jigsaw puzzles together while watching Murder She Wrote on TV, and she thought he was hiding a key border piece under his dessert plate.  Turns out he didn’t even know it was there, and all was forgiven.

When it was time to trade in their ’84 Fairmont there was never any question that it would be on another Ford.  Theo was as committed to the Blue Oval as he was to the annual tithe at the Methodist Church.  He called ahead to the salesman he’d had for years at Frontier Ford, “Home of the Straight Shootin’ Deal”, Sid Shoemaker, and told him they’d be down Saturday morning to pick out a new car.

The brand new Twilight Blue over Shadow Blue cloth ’90 Crown Victoria LX checked off every box.  Big, comfortable, every reasonable option anyone could want without being too ‘showy’ or over the top.  Theo feared that the turbine wheels might come across as a little flashy to people down at the lodge, but secretly thought they gave the Crown Vic a style all its own.  The big Ford was just the type of reasonable transportation Theo’s friends, neighbors, and co-workers expected of him.  He hoped none of them would see the new full-sized Ford from a distance and think he’d gone off the deep end and bought a Lincoln Town Car, though he could understand it if they did.  The Crown Victoria bore more than a passing resemblance to the Lincoln flagship.

Years later, the Crown Vic looked just as good as it did when he and Faye drove it home from the dealership. There were more coats of paste wax applied to the countless square feet of sheet metal than Theo could have ever counted.  He was determined to keep the massive blue sedan as factory fresh as any reasonable human being could ever expect.

It was while he was out in his driveway the other morning, applying a new coat of wax, when he began thinking. He set down the Turtle Wax and the old worn t-shirt he’d been using to buff the Ford and went into the house and called his son Ted in Tulsa.

“I’m divorcing your mother,” he told Ted.  “I can no longer tolerate her.”

“What are you talking about!?” Ted shouted into the phone.

“I don’t want to talk about it.  Call your sister in Kansas and tell her.  Save me another long distance call,” he said as he hung up the phone.

Within minutes the phone rang.  It was his daughter.  “What has gotten into you?  You’re not getting divorced!  Don’t do another thing.  Don’t sign anything!  Don’t file anything!  Don’t call a lawyer.  Ted and I are both flying to Fort Stockton this weekend.  Do you hear me?  Don’t do anything till we get there!” With that, she hung up.

Theo put the receiver back in the cradle and glanced over at Faye, giving her a wink.  “Okay, they’re coming for Christmas and paying their own airfares.”

He whistled to himself as he applied the second coat of wax to the Ford.  It had never looked better.