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You don’t want to get into the Grounds for Divorce late.

There’s always a chance that you could get trapped in the corner booth with New Guy telling you in incredible detail about his latest hemorrhoid issues.  Or cornered by Brother Bob telling you how Mayor Goodman is actually doing the Lord’s work, despite his issues with women, shady business deals, or nepotism.  Or, worse yet, Delgado is backed up in the kitchen, hasn’t had a chance to wash dishes, and you have to drink your Folgers out of a regular cup instead of a Captain My Captain mug.  Just doesn’t taste the same.

I got there late yesterday.  Luckily, New Guy was at the big round table in the middle with everyone else already.  He wasn’t squirming in his chair, so it didn’t look like there would be any hemorrhoid talk.  Everyone was drinking out of CMC mugs, so Delgado was obviously on top of things in the kitchen.  And Brother Bob was in a heated debate, but it apparently had nothing to do with politics.  I took a chair and Lucinda was there with a fresh pot and a clean mug, lickety-split.  All seemed to be well with the world.

Except it wasn’t.

There was a pretty serious debate going on and I couldn’t tell for sure exactly what it was about.  But it was obvious from the moment I took my first sip that it was centered on numbers.

“I don’t care what you say, ‘8’ is the right number,” Rex said.  “And damn near anyone you ask is going to agree with me.”

Well, it became obvious to me if ‘8’ was the right number and anyone would agree with that, they must be talking about the best number of cylinders under the hood.  I mean, ‘8’ was the go to number for most of my life.  Couldn’t help but think about the V8 under the hood of a 1960 Ford Galaxie 500.  Seemed like Rex had won the argument to me.

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Then Rusty started snickering and said, “My wife would tell you the number is ’16’.  There’d be no point in trying to talk her out of anything less.”  I know Rusty’s wife.  I’ve never really figured her for a ‘car gal’.  But, I figured she must have seen a Cadillac V-16 at some point, maybe at a Cars-N-Coffee, and fell in love with they style of the big ol’ beauty.  Couldn’t fault her for that.

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Hairless spoke up.  “I’m gonna have to go with ‘4’.  No need to explain it.  That’s the right answer, and I’m sticking with it.”  That kind of made sense to me.  I mean, I knew he had a Vega at one time.  Probably still felt emotional about the ol’ Iron Duke.  Had a real affection for that engine. It made sense.

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New Guy spoke up.  It was only a matter of time.  “I had a sergeant in the Army that used to say ‘1’, and that was it.”  The only car I could think of with a single cylinder engine was a BMW Isetta, but that didn’t seem like anything a sergeant in the Army would drive.  But then, I wasn’t completely sure if New Guy served on our side or not.

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“I’d probably have to go with ’10’.  You know that’s going to get the job done.”  Chad seemed pretty convinced of himself.  I didn’t even know Chad ever had a thing for a Dodge Viper, and that’s the only car I was aware of that came with a V-10.  Just as I was about to ask him if he’d heard anything about the “acting” manager being changed to just “manager” over at the Piggly Wiggly, Sister Thelma spoke up.

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“In Europe, they’d tell you ‘3’ is about right,” she said.  Having just read an article on the new BMW 1 Series with a 3 cylinder engine, I could understand why she might say that. Those Europeans are a crazy bunch.

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“Well,” said Pastor Peterson, “my wife is certainly not European.  She was born in Marfa.  And she’d tell you that ’12’ is the magic number, no doubt about it.”   Just like that cheeky Mrs. Peterson to go for a sexy Jaguar Type E with a big ol’ 12 cylinder mill under the bonnet.  It’s always the quiet ones, I thought to myself.  “I personally think that ‘2’ is the right number,” Pastor Peterson continued, “I’m just telling you what Mrs. Peterson would say.”  That made sense.  I mean the Citroën 2CV was made in France, and the Reformation grew by leaps and bounds in France.  There’s a connection I can understand.

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And all of a sudden, Delgado is out of the kitchen, standing there with a dishtowel thrown over one shoulder, tossing in his two cents.  “Let’s be practical here.  The right number would be ‘6’.  That’s practical.  Not excessive.  But plenty to get the job done.”  I had to agree with our Ecuadorian friend.  I mean, think about a ’65 Mustang with the base 6 cylinder engine in it.  Is it as powerful as a 289 V-8?  No.  But it’s a little cream puff that could be enjoyed by any collector not trying to show off.

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And then Lucinda steps up to the table, iPhone in hand.  “Hate to break it to everyone,” she says as she turns the phone around and displays it like it is evidence in a murder trial.  “The correct number is ‘5’.  Says so right here.  That’s what the experts say.”

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Now that surprises me a bit.  I had a 2001 Volvo V70 wagon that had the I-5 engine in it.  Certainly nothing wrong with it.  But the ideal engine?  I just never looked at it that way.

But then, as I found out way too late, they weren’t debating the ideal number of cylinders.  They were arguing about how many squares of toilet paper one should use for each wipe after a Number 2.

I took two things away from the whole conversation.  One, don’t get to the GFD late any more.  Second, if New Guy ever brings his old sergeant in to meet everybody, don’t shake hands with him.

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