Thursday, 26 July 2001 | Dashboard

Martin's car has it in for me. Apparently before I started driving it, it was running as well as it ever does. For some reason, though, since he's loaned it to me, things have started to go wrong. This morning, for example, as I was driving from Raleigh to Durham in the brake light-glow of steady rain, she began to hiss at me and blow poisonous antifreeze vapors directly at me; it looked as if someone was smoking a cigarette from somewhere inside the dashboard and was French-inhaling (exhaling?) through the grating of the vents. It wouldn't have been so bad, except that the windows on the car don't come down, unless you simultaneously press a lever with one hand and push down on the glass with the other while balancing the steering wheel with your knees.

It was already cold and wet, and I was nervous about turning on anything that wanted to share the vents with the dragon in the dashboard, so I settled for the little triangular window between the driver's-side window and the windshield. At least with that window I could breathe, even if it meant holding it open with one hand (the wind knocks it closed), cold air, and rain running down my bare arm. That's not to say I don't appreciate the car...Martin has generously offered to go without so that I can make my daily commute. I just find the car to be an unusual beast whose problems still catch me off-guard. It seems that expected problems are somehow better, regardless of the fact that I am able to repair neither.

***

First, they got married, then they started getting pregnant. Another old friend announced she's expecting. I feel happy and alien.