The weather this morning is so autumn! I love fall -- it is my favorite time of the year. I woke up under the comforter this morning. Dave gave me a kiss as he got up and asked me if I wanted some coffee. Do I want some coffee. Please. I snoozed for a little while and was awakened by my marvelous husband who had returned with coffee cup in hand (and saying "Ow, ow, ow. Take it. Take it, it's hot!"). I sat up in bed and fluffed the pillows so that I could sip my French vanilla coffee and flip through my latest Real Simple magazine which is, of course, full of autumn-oriented stuff.
Fall has introduced itself and I love it. I just started making a head wreath of autumn flowers to wear to Oktoberfest. The colors are a lot like my wedding bouquet. I wasn't really feeling it when I started making it a couple of days ago while sitting in front of the open porch door to stay cool – maybe today is the day to finish it off in the right weather setting.
And just now it has started to drizzle outside. Time to put another pot (this one decaf) on.
I wanted to add a couple of things about my little car, my Wagenschen, today. I remembered another story about my car. We once traveled together from Champaign to Ypsilanti, Michigan to go to a conference on English for Business Purposes. It was the only time the car and I were paid for our miles. I don't really remember the conference or what my paper was about, but I vividly remember the drive home. It was spring. It had rained the whole two days I was there. The weather was changing as a front moved in. The front brought tremendous wind with it – and I was driving into it to get home. My Wagenschen's mileage was not as good as usual that day.
At one point I stopped at a rest area to give my car and my bladder a break. As I pulled in, I was still driving into the wind, and then pulled into a diagonal spot according to the construction of most rest areas. Which means that now the wind was blowing against the driver-side door. I pulled into the spot, turned off the car, unlocked the door, pulled the handle, and pushed. I nearly broke my foot on the car door that I had expected would effortlessly swing open as usual. I could not get out of my car! I felt embarrassment before panic. Maybe I had neglected to unlock the door. Clearly, it was not an electrical failure as everything on my little car (save the transmission) is manual. I checked the lock – it was open. I was disappointed in my little car door. I contemplated a Dukes of Hazzard move through the window – I contemplated climbing to the passenger side.
And then I looked around and noticed that the rest area was experiencing an epidemic of driver-side doors refusing to open. I looked around and saw that a few cars had actually pulled out and then backed in so that they would be able to exit the car from the driver's side. One lady parked behind a van – but then had to crawl through the passenger side of her car when she returned to her car because the protective van had left.
I knew now that the wind was the culprit. I briefly thought that I might be able to out muscle the wind, but then pictured myself being crushed in the gap by so many pounds of metal and fiberglass as the door closed on me. As Dave will willingly tell you, I hate breaking the painted rules of parking lots – I could not bring myself to back into a pull into spot. So, I locked the driver-side door, gingerly climbed over the gear shift, and casually exited my little car on the passenger side.
That was a weird driving day. My little car did a great job – she may be light-weight, but she sits low enough to the pavement that we did just fine.
Mom and Dad protested that I did not reminisce about trips my little car and I have taken to St. Louis. My Wagenschen and I have traveled together to St. Louis from Champaign and from Chicago. The trip from Champaign is not too bad, but it is about 45 minutes longer than the trip from Champaign to Chicago. Therefore, you start to get that "Are we there yet?" feeling long before you are there yet, and the math required to avoid having to fill the tank must be more accurate than usual. The trip from Chicago to St. Louis starts out nice enough, but becomes a nightmare after the first couple of hours on Interstate 55. My little car and I love to spend time together – but 5 1/2 hours? Hypothetically, it's kind of like loving your sisters who are spread out all over the country. And then you all arrive at home and have such a great time together catching up, playing games, etc. And then you've been together for a week and you all begin to get frustrated and annoyed. It doesn't mean that I don't love spending time in my little car (or with my sisters), but quality over quantity can make a big difference.
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