*deep breath*

The front lawn needed mowed. The backyard needed cleaned. There was too much yard work to do. There was too much housework to do. No one felt like leaving the house. Everyone was too tired after doing all that yard work and housework.

The next-door neighbor kids were kicking balls around. The next-door neighbor kids were throwing water balloons. The next-door neighbor kids were shooting anything that moved with B-B-guns. My owner doesn’t want to use unnecessary tire rubber. The same driving routes are boring. There’s nowhere good to go. No one appreciates fine automobiles anymore. Too much of the wrong kind of attention is directed my way. No one waves with all their fingers anymore. My carbon footprint is too big. The DMV wants to change my license plates (again). My owner won’t put the stupid, tacky temporary paper tag in my back window.

Dogs were wandering loose. Too many idiots were pressure-washing sidewalks. My owner had a broken toe. My owner has a broken wallet. There’s too much pressure to keep a low profile right now. Too much fun reflecting on the low(ish) mileage right now. Too many other drivers seem to like playing dodge ‘em on the roads. Too many other drivers seem to have a death wish. Too much danger in driving angry.

The sun wasn’t out. The sun was too bright. The sun was missing. There was too much pollen in the air. There was too much tree sap mist in the air. There was too much dust in the air. There was too much ice in the air. Snow was predicted. Snow was predicted somewhere in the lower forty-eight states. The roads were wet. The roads were damp. The roads looked damp. There were too many bugs. There were too many birds. It was too windy. Tree branches were falling everywhere. Neighborhood trash cans were blowing all over. The weather men can’t get their forecasts right. The clouds were in the scary shapes of Priusus and Mustangs.

My owner had a conversation in the garage the other day with a neighbor who misuses has not one, but two older Chevys that both blow a fair amount of smoke. This fellow feels anyone who lets a vehicle warm up to be a gas waster.

My owner joked and talked a little about habits dying hard and owing older cars, much older than the neighbor’s Chevys and older even than the neighbor himself, and having to use something called a “Manual Choke.”

I have a little something that comes up on the DIC that reads, “Reduced Power Until Warmup Complete” if someone was to just take off without a care in the world, you know, with out a proper warm up. An Automatic Choke, of sorts. Annoying to others raring to go? Yes, but there it is regardless.

The neighbor waved his hand as if gnats were attacking him. “Don’t pay attention to that stupid thing. Yer burnin’ gas!”

Now, I don’t profess to know what my owner is thinking, but if I did, I think they would argue burning gas is a whole lot better than burning pistons.

This morning, while the garage door opened for The Other Car, a dark blue later generation passed slowly. Where did he come from? And what’s that stuff all over him? Oh yeah, rain. Ewww.

Enough already.