drivin’ around

Yesterday I shelled out $948 for suddenly necessary repairs to my car. Happily, by Sunday night, I had settled into a que sera sera place for whatever expense was coming, and when I was told the cost yesterday it was okay. It’s just this. The sky is blue. It cost to own a car.

I love my 2002 Camry with its nearly paint-less hood and sweet sound system, its six-CD changer when dropped at the garage Monday morning loaded with two Beach Boys, two Sonic Youth, The Clash, and The Jeff Beck group. I love having a driver’s license — it’s delivered me from Cape Cod in 2008 to Portland, Oregon and on to San Diego and now here in San Luis Obispo in California. And that’s just the last 17 years. I love California.

My mechanically spiffed-up Camry will in a few hours magical-pumpkin me to a four-and-a-half hour shift at the YMCA and – the creek don’t rise – back to the trailer for my Tuesday night Zen Koan group via Zoom.

Zen on Zoom. New ignition in the Camry. Not two.