Going North
So we drove up to Seattle last weekend in our 1992 Pontiac Grand Am and everything was perfect... the weather was amazing for a February day in the northwest, the sky was blue and full of possibilities, we had all of our best head-nodding CDs and we were giddy to be away from work. In the backseat sat a lunchbox full of fresh food, stretched out in front of us were miles of winding blacktop waiting to be conquered, and scurrying everywhere inside the car were ants. Everywhere ants. They crawled across the dashboard (smoosh), bustled up my arm (shriek/smoosh), and mounted a fullscale offensive on our lunch box and we couldn't figure out how they managed to catch a ride. They aren't in our apartment, they weren't inside the car before the trip, we didn't have ants in our pants... where did they come from? Who ever heard of ants in a car anyway? Maybe they wanted to move to Seattle? [They could have at least pitched in on the gas.] We had a relaxing 14-hour drive smooching and smooshing and shrieking and nodding to the music and on the second day we explored our old city.

We visited our favorite restaurants, walked through Pike Place market, ate meals with dear friends, pointed out corners and bars and bus stops where memories lived and everything was great, totally hunky until the car gave up the ghost.

After parking for dinner, I stepped out of the car to find a pool of green car blood, a frothy mixture of coolant and water, gushing out from under the engine. It appeared the car had just let it go after we parked. A hint of steam emerged from under the hood. A tantrum quickly formed under my skin, but I squashed it (shriek/smoosh) even though I knew our much-anticipated Thai dinner with friends would be delayed and we would have to spend money we didn't want to spend. These things happen and we just had to deal with it.

After calling Jerry's friend Sean to rescue us, the three of us lifted the hood to explore the car's guts, gaze knowingly and murmur, "Eyup." Instead, we were instantly dazzled by hundreds of ants dancing on the rusty old parts and mingling in the sweet green car blood in a lusty miniature bacchanal. Their little foot pads were probably burning and little did they know they would soon die, but who cares? Coolant is tasty! It was the only thing about the whole experience that made me giggle... at least the ants would get what they deserved.

And in the future, if I am taking a long road trip and there are ants in the car, I'll remember to check under the hood!

To be continued...