Freedom by Toyota
Ahah, best picture ever!
Today, I crashed into some boy named Bond Wann who happened to be sitting in the car as it happened. I ask myself why I couldn't have picked some other empty car, like the 69 others that sat smug and undented on the hot asphalt. I was crawling around at one mph though, and his lovely Nissan Altima sustained little scratches. Pray for me and my insurance rates!
Wann, Bond Wann. I like his name. I told him that the front of my car was like a little asian girl wielding double Ds, and that I was mentally and spatially incompetent.
Otherwise, I love whooshing down 22 at seven am, half in trepidation of the rumbling purr of my car, the other half in happiness. I love that I could spend weeks camping in that little space of backseat, complete in the sunshine with my book, pillow, and blanket.
PS. Why are car sounds always so scary? It seems like they're vast, echoing exoskeletons that even the slightest plink! would cause to rumble.