The Boy Malls: Wandering the aisles with a team of yankies

This is a little story about shopping. The Boy Way. At malls designed specifically for boys. We’re not talking real malls here, with a Sears on one end and a J.C. Penney on the other. We’re not chatting about grocery stores, Home Depot or Lowe’s. We’re talking strictly about true life al fresco/ outdoor Boy Malls.

The male species refers to them as scrap yards, and believe me, this is serious stuff.

Behold the day when an announcement is made: Someone’s vehicle is in disrepair.

They don’t even try to pretend they’re the slightest bit sympathetic about their friend’s dilemma—in fact quite the opposite occurs.Up and down the counter heads swivel and all eyes and ears focus on the speaker, who now has the undivided attention of every male in the place.

The doctors are in.

First, the symptoms. A detailed description of the malfunction follows. A knocking sound, brake failure, something about shocks, batteries, alternators. Internal medicine at its best. Then, the diagnosis. After much discussion it is determined what, exactly, the vehicle needs in the way of “parts.”

Now the fun part. The plans.

By far the most entertaining scenerio, because they all have to consult with the wives before a trip to the boneyard is confirmed.

Keep in mind that these little  adventures can never be made solo—various tools need to be packed and toted because they actually will be visiting a Boy Mall whose name includes… wait for it… “You Pull It.”

I assume several men are needed to do the lifting before the actual pulling can take place.

Really guys?

So the team assembles itself and makes a plan which will take up a healthy chunk of an entire day. The hood of the disabled vehicle is raised and the team gathers about to take a final look and listen prior to the commencement of the trip.

Now they shop.

I’ve had the pleasure of joining Lucky on my first, and last,  trip to one of these Boy Malls and trust me, it’s not a pretty place.

Tons and tons of beat up, rotting motorized vehicles that have seen way better days; the boneyard stretches on for miles and miles.

All makes and models in various stages of decomposition can be viewed. The boys ooh and aah for hours before a final decision is made.

And how ’bout when there’s some body-work needed? Ah yes, they are also cosmetic surgeons.

This, girls, is their version of Victoria’s Secret. The undergarments of cars are clearly displayed for all their little boy eyes to see—it’s a bra and panty fest which borders on the obscene. Lingo such as “nice rear end” and “check out her headlights!”

can be heard—the testosterone cup runneth over—they are happy fellas at their Mall.

Truly, a new meaning is given to Window Shopping as this honestly refers to rummaging for an actual, well, window.

Admittedly, they rarely come home empty handed, and most likely they will be able to “pull it,” and eventually fix it.

Okay, so maybe we wives should be hailing the chiefs for saving the family a nice chunk of change, but in our hearts of hearts we know that a one time fix is rare.

I can only recall one time, ever, when one of these old school (hope it has a carburetor) dudes had to admit defeat, and in hushed, humbled tones was forced to reveal that the vehicle had to actually be taken to a… shhhhhhh… Dealership… for repairs.

A mighty sad day that was, which hopefully will not repeat itself any time in the near future.

So have at it boys, say I. May ya shop it til ya drop it, or pull it, or haul it, or whatever.

Just don’t forget that your “real” woman is home waiting for you, and if her hood is up you’d best giddyup back—she’s got some shopping of her own to do!