Fresh Paint
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
Back From Saturn
The dealership, you ninnies, not the planet.

Car started making a noise on the way back from Wausau, which at the time I thought to be crying for the loss of democracy in the United States, but turns out to be an expensive belt that needs replacement.

So have a loaner, a car I don't even dare drive, a GMC Safari, that doesn't fit in my garage, or even in my short driveway, so its ass is sort of hanging half in the driveway and the other half in my back yard. It was apparently the only car they had left in the lot, and I was told that if I needed to keep it another day they'll swap it out. What, for a Hummer, or maybe a Chevy Suburban, a vehicle I thought was the largest on the planet.

Just driving it the 5 miles or so back from the car place I was aware how incredibly ugly it was. I started feeling like a Republican, perched high above even the clueless soccer moms in lesser SUVs. I could practically see the fuel gauge sucking up oil directly from the American drain that is the Middle East. I was repulsed, with extreme prejudice.

But am thinking maybe it isn't too late to go to the lumber yard and get some long boards, or see if I can get a couple of paintings that are too big for the car to the photographer.

Then I think, no. Nothing's going to put me back in that thing.

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