My car, Sylvie, is a ripe eleven years old. For the most part, she is a sweet and docile southern lady, with just the right amount of spice to accelerate across three lanes of traffic should the need arise. I used to assume that car years translated to human years at approximately (C)(5.562) = (H).Continue reading “I Was a Teenage Honda”
“But, Mom, I want one!” “I know, sweetheart, but with big things like this, it’s important to wait until the right time, and your dad and I don’t think you’re ready yet.” “But everyone else already has one!” “Just because your friends are doing something doesn’t mean you need to do it. If everyone elseContinue reading “But I Want One!”
As I have written before, driving with a GPS brings out the worst in me. My GPS goes by the name of Bonnie, and she has already been subjected to my gleeful Truman-esque escapes through the labyrinthine shopping center parking lots of suburban America. Little did I know that Bonnie, too, has a dark side.Continue reading “Bonnie Strikes Back”
Road trips abound in opportunities to contemplate identity. The right music helps: Antje Duvekot’s “Vertigo”, John Gorka’s “Broken Place,” and Sarah Jarosz’s “Edge of a Dream.” “oh the view from this heighthigh above the ferriswheel lightsmight cause me to swaybut i am teaching myself to be brave” “That beautiful broken place you could not outshineContinue reading “I Lied About the Vertigo”
Snark on the Side 