Into a Writer's Head

I love my car...

Really, I do. I may whine and moan every now and then about her, but she's a good car. She's been with me for 7 years, and is still going strong (more than I can say for some other relationships). She carries me many places and rarely complains.
I, on the other hand, hate to drive. I'd be happy if I could just beam myself places, like they do in Star Trek. So why, if I hate to drive, do I almost always offer to be the one to do the driving?
Because I like to be in control. And there is no greater metaphor for being the one in control than to be the driver.
Of course, there are the usual drawbacks. I end up sitting in traffic more often than I'd like, while trying to get to various places I'd really rather not be. Never has this been more apparent than the 4 (count 'em, 4!) hours I spent in the car yesterday, only to get back in again this morning.
*sigh*
I'm a good friend.
Of course, this becomes more challenging, as the friend I'm helping out, left his cell phone behind, and does not have a way to get a hold of me to pick him back up. *snort* This could get entertaining. I'll give him until this evening, then I'll take pity on the guy if he hasn't figured out how to track me down, and call the place where he's at. But no reason to call just yet.
I mean, really, I don't want to get back in the car. There's no rush here...

posted by Erin @ 8:06 AM