A toast from my wedding: "We know Len has found the perfect woman for him. She thinks she knows almost as much as Len thinks he knows."
Even though I don't claim to know all the answers, I have an answer for everything, even when I don't know what I'm talking about, which is never.
Want some advice on the stock market? Stay away from it. Need an answer to a trivia question? Yes, Rick James and Neil Young were once in the same band. What do Teddy Roosevelt, Lady Gaga and Serena Williams have in common? None have mowed my lawn. And all are rumored to be men.
Yet, the unstumpable (which would be a horrible nickname) can indeed be stumped.
Here's how: A while back, I got in my car to run an errand. In my passenger seat, I found a lizard.
Let me preface this by saying that I'm not afraid of lizards. Some folks (my wife, most notably) are. This was one of those little skinny green lizards, not the menacing ugly black-and-yellow kind. So I reached over the seat in an effort to grab it. Of course, he saw my mitt coming and took off under the seat in a flash.
I looked under my seat. Didn't see him. Looked under all the seats — couldn't find him. Started whistling and saying, "Heeere, lizzzzard, lizzzzard. Come here, lizzzzard." Astonishingly, he didn't fall for that gambit.
So I decided to go about my business and hope the lizard disappeared through some crack or crevice.
But as I'm driving down the street, I start to think: What if the lizard crawls up my pant leg as I'm driving? Or jumps on my head? A gust of air conditioning then barely moved a hair on my head next to my ear. I went into a spastic convulsion, slapping my ear furiously as I veered recklessly all over the road.
Realizing no lizard was on my ear, I regained my composure and control of the vehicle, just before I careened into a gas station. I finished my errands, driving with all my senses on high alert, leery of the potential for a lizard attack.
Back at my office, I did a quick Google search for how to get a lizard out of your car. I found a lot of information about Godzilla but nothing to help my predicament. What good is this Internet thing anyway?
I went back out to my vehicle, did a quick search, then rolled down all my windows, hoping my fork-tongued passenger would take it upon himself to vamoose. As I was rolling down the last window, I thought I felt something crawling up my leg and instinctively ran from the car, shaking my leg like a wild man. Drivers-by witnessing the scene can verify that I looked like a complete idiot. A brief investigation found that I had mistaken a blade of grass for a lizard crawling up my leg.
Leaving work later that day, the lizard's whereabouts were far from my mind. I got in the driver's seat, placed the key in the ignition, turned the key, looked up, and there he was — 8 inches from my face, staring at me from atop the steering wheel.
He just looked at me, moving his mouth slightly. In one deft motion, I released my right hand from the key and grabbed his tail, then opened my door and placed his wiggling body on the ground. He just stood there for a second, possibly stunned, then took off for the bushes.
Your question is: How do you get a lizard out of your car?
My answer: You wait.
See, I do know it all.
Len Robbins is editor and publisher of the Clinch County News in Homerville. His column appears weekly.