Well, I did it. Dan’s car is now living at the used car lot a couple blocks away. It’s a new business, so Vadim, the owner, seemed happy enough to take it off my hands. It’s got bad brakes (or as Vadim put it, “no brake”), but other than that it’s not in bad shape for an eleven year old car. He asked me what I wanted for it, and I basically told him I didn’t care. And yeah, I realize that’s not the way one deals with a used car salesman, but I know zero about cars and have no interest in learning. He gave me $800. I had him make out the check to Kid B, for a late birthday present and college money.
In eighth grade science, I learned how cars emit poison gases as a byproduct of petroleum combustion. I thought that sounded like a lousy idea, and decided to wait on driving until somebody convinced me otherwise, or until technology gave us some safer, healthier kind of automobile. I’m still waiting.
My feet aren’t really loose. Good thing–I’m going to need them this winter, when the streets get too gucked up for biking. The nearest market is a mile away, and it takes two weekly grocery runs to keep me in veggies.