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Apparently, I am a maniac driver. Now, I know I drive with, er, verve, dash, vim, vigor, whatever. I caught it from Frank, but since I'm not a Boy I don't drive to prove that Mine is Bigger Than Yours. I drive the way I do because I'm usually BORED to DEATH. Adding a little swoop to my turns is fun! Seeing how fast I can go on the curvy little twisty road is a game! Don't get me wrong; I know the Space Wagon is not a toy. I know she's a dangerous projectile if I'm not careful. I'm really very safe; I've never gotten a ticket or had an accident, and I don't plan to start. I'm also well aware that people on blood thinners should not crash their vehicles. Punctures tend to become a problem for me real quickly. On the other hand, it is part of the challenge to drive the Space Wagon-basically a tired, plodding, old gray mare sort of car- as if she's really a prancing Frisian show horse. She enjoys it, too, even though she sounds a lot like a lawn mower. Must go watch more Olympics-Ice Prancing finals on tonight. I'm hoping the luridly tinted French folk will win. Today's book: Cold Sassy Tree, Olive Ann Burns: these characters talk like my grandma, pure Georgia. Headbone Radio selection: Beautiful Day, U2. Play it LOUD! |
 
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Rabid driver!