Exclusive and upscale living.
“We have a restrictive covenant that prohibits trucks in here. The homeowners association will make you remove it. Tell Tom he will have ten days to move his truck out of here,” said Elliott Sizemore, president of the association.
“Oh no, that’s my truck. He likes luxury, but I like power. It’s a ‘Meteor Classic,’ loaded with all the luxuries plus power. It is super powered by a rugged hemi 16 cylinder engine. Just a tap of the pedal and you will zoom out of here. Twenty two hundred horses power this baby,” said Audrey proudly with a delightful smile.
“This truck is not you. Ladies don’t drive trucks. Only men drive trucks. You are a woman with class. You need luxury and not power. The ‘LaMonte’ is your style,” said Elliott hoping to convince Audrey to return to conformity.
“Look Elliott, I’m a new type of woman. Free to be me. I will have it no other way. It’s time to change the rules here,” said Audrey with a stance ready to fight. The right leg is bent at the knee and firmly planted in front of her. Audrey’s left leg is stretched behind her to provide support for her as she moves forward. She makes a one, two punch forcefully to her side looking Elliott straight in the eye. He stares her down hoping to intimidate her into submission. Audrey just ignores him and does another one, two.
“You cannot have this truck in here. It’s not what we want. I wonder what the neighbors will think. This is ‘Alegria Estates,’ not ‘Hillbilly Hills.’ We are high class and not trash. This is an eyesore and a classless nuisance. It must go. It will go,” said Elliott with his finger pointed directly at Audrey.
Audrey points her finger back at Elliott saying “You are not the almighty here. How dare you dictate to me. I will fight to the end. I will not make it easy for you, and I mean it.”
“Look at it, jacked up ten feet above the ground with monster tractor tires. This vehicle will never fit into your garage. You know that everyone is expected to park their cars inside their garages at seven p.m. sharp. That truck will never fit in there,” said Elliott.
“My truck does has style. It’s painted with a metallic raspberry red with sparking specks across it’s finish. On it’s side panel, as you see, there is a graphic of silver stars spilling down from the sky from the upper left corner of the door. At the base of the panel, the stars become iridescent flowing like a river across the the edge, then rise up to the upper right corner, then streaking across the tail gate. Across the panel of stars, scripted in pink and outlined in raspberry, are the words in a lower case, ‘free to be me.’ Now that is magnificent. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Audrey, your truck does have class and it is luxurious, but I’m afraid it must go. The association will vote against it.” said Elliott.
“Elliott, who makes the decision about my truck?” said Audrey in a resigned manner.
“It’s the association. The bylaws of the association already make it clear that no truck belongs here. There’s nothing I can do about it. I got an idea. How about the ladies from the association board take a look at your truck?” said Elliott in a hopeful tone of voice.
“That’s fine with me. Where shall we meet and when?” said Audrey with a hopeful tone of voice, too.
“Well, Audrey, it will be the women of the committee. There are three of them. You know them well. They will be awfully critical of it. The three are, Countess Vanessa LaFortunata, the richest woman here. Second is Stella Alvarez. She has tagged herself as the ‘queen of Alegria.’ It was she that drafted the ordinance including a clause that no trucks are allowed here. She knows how to charm and influence the committee to follow her dictates. We already know her decision. It will be no,” said Elliott in a resigned tone of voice.
“Lastly, Maybelline Avonage. She knows what is beauty and what is not. Maybelline has an eye for glamour. She may like the style and color, particularly the raspberry red frosted by a sea of stars.”
“I will even add a man, Sir Anthony of Empathy to view your truck and to give an honest opinion about it. He is someone who has good judgement and he will try to give a fair assessment of it. He is no knight in shining armor. He may or may not rule against you,” said Elliott in an assuring voice.
“Again, Elliott, where shall we meet and when?” “At twelve noon tomorrow at the clubhouse. Look your best and have your truck sparkling like diamond stars. See you then,” said Elliott. “I’ll be ready to accept their approval. Got to be positive about it,” said Audrey.
The three ladies and gentleman arrive at the association clubhouse. Audrey is standing next to her truck moving her hand across it’s hood and side panel to point out it’s most noticeable feature, the graphic of shining stars.
“Well, what do we have here? I see you have lowered your standards, Audrey. This is a nuisance and quite vulgar, I must say. It must go. I’ll see to it,” said Countess Vanessa LaFortunata.
Stella Alvarez speaks her mind. “Simply, it must go. I will direct the committee to see it my way, and they will, Audrey,” in a snobbish manner and her arrogant way.
“Maybelline Avonage, your opinion, please,” said Elliott. “You call this luxurious with class? I think not. It has no glamour. Audrey, you should have, at least, applied some blush and lip gloss. And a string of pearls would have swayed my opinion, but it does not.”
“Sir Anthony of Empathy, your assessment, please?” said Elliott with an appeal for Audrey. “Mrs. Ventura, I will give you an unbiased assessment of your truck. It has charm, it has style, but it is not a ‘LaMonte.’ Common sense tells me a truck is not a car. It has no luxury at all. I’m sorry, Audrey, but to tell you the truth, it doesn’t belong here.”
“Ladies and gentleman, and you too, Audrey. We will meet here at the clubhouse tomorrow at seven o’clock in the evening. Audrey, you and Tom, both, must be there. See all of you then,” said Elliott with style and charm.
Audrey and Tom appear before the homeowners association. “Mr. and Mrs. Ventura, you have violated the rules here. We have a restrictive covenant that requires every homeowner to drive motorcars of class. A truck does not belong here,” said association president Elliott Sizemore.
Audrey to the committee. “I have come to the realization that I no longer fit the mold here. Conformity is not for me. I’m a new type of woman. Free to be me,” said Audrey.
“Mr. Ventura, what do you think of your spouse’s rebellious ways?” said Elliott waiting to hear his comments about the ‘new type of woman.’ “Well, Audrey is not the same. She attended a seminar a month ago called ‘For Women Only.’ She came home so excited. Audrey said, ‘I’m a new type of woman. Free to be me.'”
Committee chair, Elliott Sizemore, seeks recommendations from the committee. “Countess LaFortunata, your decision?” “Mrs. Ventura no longer belongs here. Although she has wealth, she no longer is a lady, but a woman who wants her freedom. She must be granted her wishes.”
“And you, Sir Anthony, you are a man of wisdom and stature, your recommendation for the Ventura’s?” “This is a matter of principle. Logic tells me it doesn’t make sense for them to stay. My judgement is to expel them from ‘Alegria.'”
“Maybelline, does Audrey appear to be a woman of class and distinction?” said Elliott hoping for a sway to the positive in favor of Audrey. “No, Elliott. She no longer cares about keeping up appearances. She has let herself go. She is not a lady of glamour and has to go. A truck is not a ‘LaMonte.’ Sadly, Audrey, you must go and your truck, too.”
“Senora Alvarez, your judgement call?” said Elliott with the last appeal for Audrey. “They longer are elitist. She has lowered her standards. Women of class do not drive trucks. The bylaws state that a truck is not allowed here. It must go.”
Chairman Sizemore to Mr. and Mrs. Ventura. “What do you want to do, conform or rebel?” “I’m a new type of woman. Free to be me. I want to go,” said proudly by Audrey to the committee. “Mr. Ventura, since Audrey is a ‘new type of woman,’ she deserves the freedom to go. Now, Mr. Ventura, your decision?” “I’m a new type of man. Free to be me. We must go,” said in a joyful tone of voice by Tom Ventura.” “I, and the committee, rule in your favor, you are free to leave,” said Elliott Sizemore to the Ventura’s.
Tom to Audrey. “My darling, you’re free to be you. I’m free to be me. Remember we belong to each other.” “We do, indeed,” said Audrey with a sparkle in her eyes.
Tom and Audrey embrace and leave the clubhouse arm in arm. “Now, who is driving what? You the LaMonte and me the truck. You know, women don’t drive trucks,” Tom said laughingly. Audrey responds with a smile, “I drive a truck and men drive luxury. I’m a new type of woman. Free to be me.”