A Mother's Musings and Mumblings

Normally I say that it isn’t worth it to drive me crazy. Really, it’s so close that by the time you get your seat belts on and move the car, find a parking spot and walk to the door you could have just walked the whole way and saved the gas. Yet here I am in the HOV lane on my way to the Funny Farm. So what’s driving me out of my tree?

GPS

I have come to believe that this really stands for “Generally Pointless Steering”. Seriously. We’re talking driving a car, not flying a plane, here. There are no Instrument Flight Rules. You can’t just rely on the little voice to tell you what to do. In any other situation, letting the little voice that only you can hear dictate your actions is called psychosis. And it’s considered a bad thing. Yet when driving this (I’m sure) otherwise lovely and intelligent individual in front of me had no problem listening to their GPS telling them to turn left. The left turn signal went on. The car moved into the left turn lane. The car moved back into the right lane. THEN the left turn signal went off. Then the left turn signal went on. The car moved into the left turn lane. Cars honked because there was no left turn lane. The car moved abruptly back to the right. The driver fingered the little screen and veered to the left again. More honking. Squinting at the little screen. Swerve to the right.

Had they paid half the attention to the actual road and traffic that they paid to that little screen their carma rating wouldn’t be in the toilet right now. And the illegal U-turn would have been unnecessary.

Gasoline

I know, I know. Take a number. I haven’t complained much about gas prices because this modern witch’s broom is a Prius named Rosie. I hate to complain when I’m getting over 50 mpg. But today, for you, I make exception (sorry it’s in writing, you’ll have to imagine the accent).

I’m a sucker for some things. Little things. Sometimes things that make no sense. I’m a New Age feminist with a soft spot for some old time traditions. And I don’t just mean Goddess worship. No. I liked our little full-service gas station. It seemed to be the last one left in the area. I know there are parts of the country where they’re still common, but around here they’re nearly impossible to find and yet I had one I drove past every day on my way to work. Not that I stopped all that often – not in Rosie. But the prices there weren’t more than a penny higher than the self-serve next door so when I needed gas I stopped and talked to the wonderful characters who worked there. It was a happy thing.

Last week I noticed that the numbers were gone from their sign. I figured that with prices changing so much they’d just taken them down. Two days ago I saw it. The trash bags taped over the pumps. Big, black hefty bags are the coffin of choice for my blast of the past fuel station. Poof! I think Rosie even hiccuped.

What struck me was that it struck me at all. Gas prices go up and I say: “Well, they’ve been this high in Europe for a long time.” They go up more and I think: “Well, I’m glad I have a Prius.” Gas prices start to impact the cost of travel and I say: “This is a good year to go camping.” They start to impact the cost of food and I think: “I’m no worse off than anyone else, we’ll figure this out.” But when my favorite little full service station goes out of business I stop to brush away a tear and stamp my feet with a “THIS ISN’T FAIR!!”

Yup. I think I’ve been driven crazy. Here’s hoping I remember where I parked the car.