flickr.com
Wild Woman drives
a spiffy '92 blue Toyota Corolla wagon
with 414,448 kilometres on it,
and that's a lot of
four's.
It has more rust holes
than an old milking pail
that has been at the landfill
since 1902.
It has so many dents that,
when a woman backed into it
at high speed
at a gas station,
Wild Woman just said,
"No worries,"
and drove away, grateful
the woman had hit
the rear,
rather than the driver's,
door.
Blue visited the shop today,
because things got so evil
under the hood
that a vital component
completely disappeared,
without explanation.
Mechanics surveyed
Wild Woman's
general deshabille
and lack of chic.
(Wild Woman and her true blue car
have both passed
their Best Before dates, clearly.)
They appraised, with grave concern,
the lumpy dented car
with its jaunty "I Love Tofino" bumper sticker,
and gently suggested that
a coolant flush
"was recommended,
but not essential,
in the general scheme of things,
like if food requirements, for example,
were truly pressing."
They asked if it had air conditioning.
"No, I’m just
grateful it still RUNS."
They laugh.
But Toyotas always do.
No matter what
is Missing
or Less Than Perfect,
whenever Wild Woman turns the key,
it starts.
Wild Woman will likely
still be driving it
for another five years.
The body may rust off,
but Blue will still be
chugging happily along.
Just like me,
Wild Woman realizes.
She identifies
with her old car.
She loves its staunch brave heart,
its Can Do attitude.
It will take some serious Doing
to keep starting
longer than her
Toyota does.
Wild Woman is up
for the task.
I was thrilled, today, to realize that the mechanic assumed by my attire and wild hair, that I LIVED in Tofino. Made my day! My work here is done. Cackle.
