Mike and I are having dinner in Bennington with friends tonight and I dropped him off at a carpool location this morning so he and I can drive all the way back home in one car. I do not like driving his car since it's a totally different size than mine and an automatic and it's had more troubles than my car. I just don't want to be driving it when one of those odd things or scary noises happen and I don't know if it's a new problem or something that will turn the car into a ball of flames. That and I prefer manual transmission in the Northeast because I find it much more comforting to drive manual in certain conditions and manual transmission gives me the semblance of more control (lack of control is where all of my stress and worry comes from.) Besides, Cagney is a much, much, cuter vehicle.
Sure, some would think I'd prefer to drive a C-RV in winter weather but I just think lower lying cars are better when the roads are clear AND when they are mired. Whatever, it all comes down to what you know. And I know my car even if I haven't driven her much for the past nine months. We have the previous five and a half years together. That's a history, people!
So here I am this morning all ready to get into Cagney thinking the only thing that would take extra time is the ice on the windshield. Heh. I'm dumb. I haven't moved the car since Tuesday and we've had some awesome winter weather lately. And by awesome I mean shitastic. There's been ice and snow and sleet. Fine, whatever. I walk to work. Except for today- when I want to drive to Vermont of all places- and I can't get my car out because one whole tire is surrounded by a lovely ice cocoon. And it's a front tire, something whose mobility is imperative when you have front wheel drive. Bleh.
I can't even be mad. The ice wrap is just a testament to my committment to driving less. But instead of freezing my jubblies off chipping at ice I would prefer a parade. Universe, get on that. Mmmk?