I was laying awake last night--having been unsuccessful at convincing the unborn to quit the gymnastics for five minutes so I could fall asleep--attempting to pinpoint the event or moment that ushered in the Big Expensive Bads. I kept coming back to the car; the squat, green metal money pit that it is and has always been. On my mind because it caught on fire day before yesterday en route to the only person in the world who was (WAS, operative word) willing to give us a few bucks for it, for scrap. Hard to picture an exhausted pregnant lady in muggy, ninety degree heat, pushing a burning vehicle under the expressway to die, where it will further cause her grief and money in the form of parking tickets and towing fees, and have ANY uncertainty as to the origin of her problems. It's still there. In Brooklyn. Racking up the Big Expensive Bads.
I fucking hate cars. My decision to move to NYC lo those years ago was in no small way cemented by the fact that I wouldn't have to own a car. Or insure a car. Or park a car. Or maintain a car. Or put gas in a car. Or clean a car. Or repair a car. And that promise keeps us in New York to this day, each semi-serious contemplation of a move stopped short at "...but then we'd have to have a car."
None of this, however, prevents me from have a deep and rich love for the stupid, nightmare car. And guilt about its condition. Sadness that it will be gone. Worry about what we will do if all the what if's happen that made us get the car in the first place. A hollow spot forming in my heart, the shape of a pine tree on an elastic string, labeled "Black Ice".
Posted by Antigeist at June 28, 2006 12:16 PMWe can still hang the Black Ice in the house!
Posted by: g at June 28, 2006 01:42 PMI have an H.L. Mencken quote that would be great here...scathing, insightfull, concise..but instead I wonder if you could drop me a line so we can catch up?
Posted by: mc at June 29, 2006 12:20 AMA hollow spot forming in my heart, the shape of a pine tree on an elastic string, labeled "Black Ice".
Like that guy from Repo Man said:
"You find one in every car".
!!!
That car had weird karma. (Car-ma?)
I remember how it wouldn't start, the day after you bought it. And how the method of opening the gas cap door was a diabolical mystery.
Sorry.
Posted by: Max at June 29, 2006 08:06 PMI've read a few of your posts out of shear happenstance. I did a Google search for the meaning of "piss whistle" after reading a derivative of a joke that I made. Out of the thousands of descriptive metaphors for "it" I have never heard of "piss whistle" being one of them. The search turned up this site. There are references to piss and whistle with some dialog that included consuming maple syrup directly from a bottle of Mrs. Butterworth.
However, I am getting off track. I am curious. You stated that principal reason you moved to N.Y. was so that you wouldn't have to own, maintain, or otherwise care about an automobile. Yet, upon moving to N.Y. you found that an automobile (which from reading ended up under a bridge racking up the Big Expensive Bads) was a necessity, for whatever reason. Wouldn't this render your move to N.Y. moot and prompt you to reconsider your evaluation that N.Y. didn't require vehicle transportation (provisioned by you and/or your family, of course)? I don’t know how long hollow promises last, but they don’t last long for me. I am also presuming that you have been a resident in N.Y. for quite some time. Just trying to wrap my head around the logic.
Also, I’ve read quite a few of the other comments you have posted and have to say, I enjoy them (nice, nicer, apple, lapple, appell, funny ). As you have experienced that Murphy loves you too, it makes me feel like I have found a kindred spirit amongst the ethereal world of the internet. Sorry, I couldn’t help it, I was kidding. In all seriousness, I hope the birth of your child is a genesis to a new perspective and hopefully some form of peace in your life (I haven’t quite fallen in to the abyss of relentless despair…yet). God knows I need the same thing to happen on my side.