It's been a couple days since I posted, and do you want to know why? I have been driving all the time. There's nothing like recovering something you lost to make you appreciate it. I recall the mysterious disappearence of my Hot Wheels racer when I was eight or so. It wasn't my favorite toy, until I lost it. Then, suddenly, I had to find it. I hunted everywhere for it (which to a child means under my bed and in my closet and behind the couch in the living room), and whined to my parents (they told me to pipe down) and accused my brother of stealing it (he punched me) and was generally miserable for about a week, which is a long time for an eight year old. And then gradually I forgot about it, and went back to playing with dinosaurs and American Civil War soldiers (there were some mightly unlikely reconstructions, I tell you. Pickett's Charge with Stegosaurus support. General Grant leading a troop of giant T-Rex.)
A month or so later the Hot Wheels racer turned up in the basement, and I wept with joy. Couldn't get enough of it. I lived with the thing, brought it to meals, slept next to it. My parents were concerned. But they were smart enough to wait, and in time (say ... a week) I got used to having the Hot Wheels racer back in my life, and began to ignore it again.
So with the car. Give me time, and I will go back to taking it for granted. But for now I am in the bliss of a second honeymoon.
One other reason I spend so much time in the car is that I am driving slower. Much slower. Student drivers are passing me. Old men in hats are passing me. I wave at them as they speed by, several kilometres per hour over the posted limit.
Reckless, that's what they are.
Comments