Mikey related some trouble they were having with their truck. Right away, my husband-the-motorhead (or hoon, if you're an Aussie) said, "I think they have a Ford F-350 series. Find out." He loves to diagnose things (although he has yet to figure me out), and his brother drives the same truck for his job as a welder/mechanic for a drilling outfit, so Tim was happily contemplating an evening in front of the computer on his favorite mechanic's site, talking to brother Norm on the phone, and 'fixing' a truck in Arizona. He headed out the door to put the finishing touches on the new gas tank installation for his 'winter rat'. (He will garage store the old Mercedes at the first sign of snow.)
I sent a quick e-mail to Mikey, but Tim had said, "Give them a quick call," and so I did. Wade called back. My sister answered the phone in her deep southern accent. I heard her say, "What?" several times, and finally said, "Let me get my sister..." and I was talking to Wade, with his cowboy accent. I had no trouble understanding him, but when I got off the phone, and told my sister who it was, and that they lived out west in Arizona, she mused, "I dunno, but that boy, he shore talk funny."
I about fell out of my chair. If Cara had been home, she would have raised an imaginary phone to her ear. She would have said, "Pot? This is kettle. Yeah. You're black..."