Big Red

So, most of you know about the joys of my delightful Oldsmobile, Old Red.

I did not name him Old Red, my sister did, for you see, he used to belong to her. Before her, he belonged to someone else, in Logan, Utah. Before that, who knows. (Actually, my dad probably was the one that named him that, but that's besides the point.)

(I just call him Car. As in, "Thank you, Car." Or, "You can do it, Car!" Not that you really needed to know that, either.)

Back to the point. Old Red is ancient. He is an Oldsmobile. And, as many of you know, the clicking sound that is linked with the turning signal has a mind of it's own. Yes, that's right; the clicking comes on whenever it wants to, speeds up really fast (mostly when I press the brake, but not always), and generally freaks out and annoys anyone who has the delight of riding in my car. People smack him, kick him, and once, even yell at him, and yet nothing helps. I think he secretly enjoys the pain he inflicts in people.

The other day, however, Adele's "Rolling in the Deep" came on and the beat EXACTLY matched the ticking, dead on. Perhaps Car recognized that I was having a hard morning and really, really was dreading going to the doctors, so he planned it to make me smile.

Awwww, being polite to your car and thanking it for not breaking down on the side of the road on a regular basis DOES pay off.