pseydtonne | x sub 1 plus buttwad of dough equals x sub 2

The shop in Beverly called Thursday afternoon to say my car was fixed. I got up early today so that I could walk to the T and and the commuter train to the shop. I made the pilgrimage, did my penance and received absolution (except for the tires -- they don't do tires there).

On Wednesday afternoon they'd told me the neighborhood of the cost -- it was high enough that they offered me a discount. All I could think was that I was glad I finally had the dough to get it fixed after all of this time.

I also wondered why I'm so tied to my car versus any other. Perhaps it's because this is still my first car. Five years and change pass but I don't want to drive anything else. This car is my glove.

When i got in, I slipped smoothly into gear (and rolled into traffic. Soon enough i was racing onto the crummy end of route 128, where the onramps are about four inches long and crooked. Zoe never sounded so happy to take a challenge.

I was still in a quiet purr at 4000 RPM in third. As she slid into fourth I thought, "yeah, I can see why tires would be fun. I want to go for a drive." I fell back in love with my old car.

Good thing that: I'll be driving 44 miles each way every day for a while (you know, until I figure out a better job).