The Honda is on the fritz again.
Recently, I walked out of my apartment to the sight of the tailpipe hanging precariously off of the muffler. One little tap of my toe, and the tip of the pipe went clattering to the asphalt, effectively circumcising my car.
And here, all along I thought she was a girl.
After an initial inspection, the kind men at Dr. Don’s Automotive told me that the muffler is “rusting out.” Also, it “needs a left front wheel bearing,” and the “right front shock is leaking.” I no speaka mechanic, but I do understand that these things are NOT GOOD, and if I choose to drive despite these warnings, I am literally in serious danger of a wheel “falling off.”
So while I wait for the day when I can get my car into the shop, I am on foot, traipsing from Ballard to the U-District to Fremont to North Seattle. On Monday, I walked 6 miles, and then ran 3. Yesterday, I walked 8. This morning, I have already logged 3.5, and have another 3 ahead of me this afternoon. On Friday, I will drop off my car in Ballard, and then hoof the 6 miles to Shoreline.
I have had many offers for rides, but to be honest, I like to walk. In the days before cars, people walked everywhere, and as a result, had hours upon hours to think. And in all of the thinking that I’ve been doing, the best thought I have had is this:
If things can be “discombobulated,” why can’t they be “combobulated,” or even just “bobulated”?