Fancyisms by Bonnie Fancy

Feedback – What Readers say about these columns

Since I started writing this column, I’ve gotten some interesting feedback.

Most women tell me it’s the first thing they read in The Star. Some say it is the only thing they read. I hope not. Those who are not married to do-it-yourself restorers have asked me if I’m not exaggerating just a tad.

“He didn’t really put hubcaps in the dishwasher,” one said recently at a club dinner.

Ernie had to admit that he had, indeed, put hubcaps in the dishwasher. Another woman at the table said she understood exactly what it’s like. Her husband’s pistons were in her deep freezer. He didn’t think it was strange at all. Neither did Ernie.

Ernie tells me this is not an unusual procedure. I think these guys have watched way too many episodes of “MacGyver.”

Most men think the column is funny and encourage their wives to read it. Sort of a “See, you’re not the only one.” One man even told me it was educational. Maybe some of my experiences have given him ideas on how to do things. I wonder how his wife feels about this “educational experience.”

I said in one column that Car Talk hosts Tom and Ray were delusional after they wrote a column stating that men treat their cars the way their wives treat them. A man came up to me at the next event and said, “Okay, I’m delusional.”

At a national event, one man approached me and said, “I’m going to have to be careful what I say to you, because I might get in the column.” I guess he wasn’t careful enough.

Even when people disagree with me or correct me, it’s okay. I’m not right all the time, and I have never claimed to be the final authority on anything. Sometimes a different slant on things can give me a new idea or teach me something I didn’t know. It may even get me to rethink my position. I don’t mind sitting down and discussing a difference of opinion with anyone, as long as it is not done in an antagonistic manner. Generally, though, people have been encouraging.

When I wrote about how to get rid of old parts cars, someone was kind enough to e-mail me and point out that some charities take old cars. The cars don’t have to be working – they just have to be rollable. That’s good to know; it means I won’t have to cut the old clunkers into small pieces and put them out for the trash.

Recently, I was even asked for an autograph. Actually, it was the second time. The first time, it was my son Mark who wanted it on a piece of paper made out “Pay to the order of. … And don’t worry, Mom, I’ll fill in the numbers.” The second time, the man was serious, so I signed his copy of The Star.

Even that pales compared to the comment from my grandson, Spencer: “Grandma, I saw you in Daddy’s magazine!” His sister wants to be a writer since seeing me in The Star and finding out that I also write for a newspaper.

Some men think I’m putting them down or complaining about men in general. I wouldn’t have put up with all of this for 37-plus years if I didn’t accept and respect the sometimes odd and obsessive behavior exhibited by my favorite Mercedes Maniac. I have bought him tools. I’ve trolled junkyards looking for that one special part. I’ve put up with the phony patter of flea-market (okay, so they are “swap meets”) shills. “Good afternoon, sir. I see you’ve brought your daughter.” It’s the absurdity of some of it that both amuses and bemuses me. In any case, it’s been a wonderful ride with a lot of interesting stops along the way.

If any of the men reading this column are concerned about Ernie’s ego being hurt, they shouldn’t be. He enjoys the notoriety and has even re-enacted some of the photo-worthy behaviors for the column. However, I do not use him as a go-to source, so if I am misinformed about something, don’t blame him. He doesn’t usually see the column until it arrives in the mail.

I have no doubt that Ernie doesn’t always understand my hobbies. Why would I buy six skeins of yarn at $14 a skein so that I can make a poncho? He never said it, but I’m sure he thought, “You can get all the yarn you need for $14 at Wal-Mart. Who cares whether it’s alpaca or acrylic?” In fact, you could probably buy a knitted poncho at Wal-Mart for less than I spent on the yarn.

I’m sure he cringes when I bring knitting or crocheting to do in the car. After all, there are the points on the needles to consider and the inevitable scissors, but he puts up with it, along with the little snippets of yarn that don’t always make it into the bag.

Do I understand his obsession with cars? No, not really. But there are worse things he could be doing. I’ve always said that if I have to have competition named “Mercedes,” at least it’s a car.