I won’t enter the debate of whether car phones are a hazard, but I don’t have one. I need my driving time just as my shower time for inspiration. As far as hazards go, try peeling off the price stickers on a bagful of grocery items as you’re driving down Route 8 at 80—oops, that’s 65—mph just so you can look straight into 92-year old baby blue eyes and tell your father that thirty dollars’worth of groceries cost only $7.50.
Ah, here’s another scribble: “Car names” reminds me to ask you if you’ve ever named your cars? My Honda’s name is Greenie. His soulmate which belongs to mine, is Whitey. What can I say, Honda is a practical automobile, and the CRVs don’t come in a large palette of rainbow colors. Our choice in each purchase besides our final picks were Blackie, Reddy, Bluey, and Taupey-Toupee. The only one we’d concede and assign a different name is Hi Ho Silver!
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology