Raised by Wolves

Gaki: writing myself Real

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The headlamp burned brightly but too briefly

You know, the word "total" always seemed to me to have such an innately positive ring to it. Total vitamins for the day, total annihilation, total package, total diplomatic immunity, totally under control, totally out of control.

However, when used in the same sentence as the suffix "-ed" and the noun "car," the word has taken on a darker cast for me on this particular week.

I wasn't in the vehicle when the perfectly oblivious family man ran the stopsign on his way back from church... I'd lent it to a friend to go pick something up, and luckily neither of the girls in the car were hurt. It wasn't anyone's fault, and it's only a material object, but nevertheless, I feel an unmistakable pang of loss.

The Search Engine always had a bit of a "James Dean" aura about it though, a premonition of doom at some unspecified time in the future. That car brought me to tribal sweat lodge ceremonies in Seattle, to the party at the end of time that is Burning Man, to the schizoid dream-city that is New York, to the rough and rowdy French Quarter where I nearly lost my foolish skull and it's contents entirely... and so many places in between, endlessly up and down the coast of California. So many near disasters and close shaves haunted its brief but joyous existence, and though it brought me much luck, I always blocked when I tried to imagine myself driving it five or ten years down the line, and I never knew why.

But it's number came up too unexpectedly, and too soon. It was a community vehicle from the outset, ferrying canvassers and strays everywhere they needed to go, getting people to job interviews, or to the grocery store, or to the best parties, or to whole new lands; even guarded my sleep on occasion. It's a statistics thing... too many people driving it, too much time on the road, and one fool who didn't look where he was going at the wrong time.

I will miss her.

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Aww...Ken! I understand! I can't even imagine driving my car five years from now. I have this strange feeling that I'm going to give it away. It's aura is less James Dean and more...

...gifting. Hm. Anyway. Glad no one was hurt. But shit. How will you drive to visit me now??! ;D

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