So I have to apologize for yesterdays post.
It was most definitely the product of too little sleep, and too much driving.
I have gotten far more sleep since the horrific mouse post debacle, but have done WAY more driving than I would care to admit. More driving on the docket for today as I slowly continue to cart massive amounts of STUFF from Old Apartment* to New House.
Last night as I drove back from New House at 3:30am, I was looking at the speedometer on the car:
(Yes, I'm a total daredevil, picturephoning while driving at speeds of 67mph!)
Notice how fast I'm going? Now, notice what top speed the little gauge allows for. That's right. 150mph. That is hella fast.
Where does Honda think I'm going? The Autobahn?! Could this car even really get UP to speeds of 150mph? And then I remembered, that in the past I have tempted fate and tested the tantalizing limits of the speed-dial. "To dreeeeam the impossible dreeeeeam!!!"
But, I must tell you. I did it in this:
Oh yes my friends. That is a bright-yellow New Beetle. The car my little sixteen year old self learned to drive in.
I would take the car to and from work, 25 minutes away. As I worked as a waitress, I often left work at late night hours and would have the road to myself when I left. That's when I decided I was a Nascar racer.
I would slowly increase the pressure on the gas pedal, the car beginning to wobble at around 88mph. Doc Brown was wrong, there was no flash. I didn't make it back in time. However, the Beetle wasn't equipped with a flux capacitor so I guess that was too much to wish for.
A crazy singing noise coming from a combination of the whipping winds and the engine at 104mph. "WooooooHeeeeeeeAhhhhOOohhhhhIIIIIAmmmmmFlyyyyiinngggIIIICaaannnn'tStooooppppppppppp!!!"
Violent shaking and a knocking noise from the engine at 117mph. Even at the immortal age of sixteen, I knew that was enough. Well, besides that, the car wouldn't go any faster. I would slow the car down, probably a little too quickly weaving dangerously in and out of lanes. It's quite amazing that I never got snagged by a cop. Maybe at speeds of 117mph a car becomes invisible? That must be it.
Quite frequently I would make the 25 minute trip home from work in 12 minutes. But even though I flew close to the sun, I never made it to the end of the speedometer. I don't think I ever will. Especially not with a car full of my prized possessions, such as my juicer and lei collection.
* As I typed that, I got a flash of the Barenaked Ladie song 'Old Apartment'. Note to self: Must remember to listen to that song in self-indulgent nostalgia trip prior to completely moving....