Flashes of Panic

I’ve been driving the same car for nearly ten years now. It’s been pretty good to me, in general, and since I left Pennsylvania the rate at which it accrued mileage has dipped—particularly since we moved here, where on an average week it only leaves the driveway once.

But still, an eleven-year-old car is getting up there. (Before I get much farther, I should note: I have every intention of keeping it going as long as it’s good for more than spare parts. No point in using the metal, plastic, etc. to generate a new car on my account until I’ve used this one up.) Like the two which came before it, it’s starting to show little rattles as pieces work loose; the finish has all the nicks and scuffs that come with years on the road (even the (many) parts which have been replaced.) The power socket has actually separated from its hole in the dashboard and dangles loose in front of the gear shift.

This morning, I tried to pop the hood to put in more windshield washing fluid. The hood wouldn’t pop. I pulled again… and the latch snapped off in my hand.

This one I may have to fix. (Or get fixed.)

Now Playing: You Are The World from Mental Jewelry by Live