Surreality on the Road

So today on the bike ride into work I saw my old car, the 1990 Mazda 323 hatchback crapmobile that I unloaded last summer. It's an easy car to pick out, as it has a couple of large dents in the side and is the color of rust (which they pretty much stopped using in 1991). I waved at the driver and said hi; she at least pretended to know who I was, and then zoomed off. (Hey, the car can still zoom!)

This is, unbelievably, the SECOND time I've spotted my old car; the first time was last fall going over the Bay Bridge. For a 16-year-old car, it's still rockin' n' rollin' well, and for a split-second I thought about how much money I could've saved by riding that puppy out for a few more years.

And then I remembered how uncomfortable it was, how it was slapped together with spit and duct tape, how it was easier to break into than a bank made out of swiss cheese, and continued on into work.