PlazaJen: Passion Knit

Apparently, my car is invisible. Like the stealth bomber, and the B-52, LaFonda the Honda joins the elite warfare ranks as a silent, invisible machine in the war on terror.

I submit to you my experience of last night. When I exit the building in my car, it's on to a one-way street, three lanes wide, at the bottom of a hill. It's a busy street, and I have to get out and into the middle lane within a block's distance. And I'm 10 feet from a stoplight. So it's a little like jumping in on double dutch jump rope some days. Last night, a FedEx truck was stopped in the lane closest to me, blinkers on, etc. I'm there, pulling out, almost in front of him and he just puts 'er in gear and completely cuts me off. Now, I had my window down and his was down, so I felt compelled to yell and tell him what a dickwad he was, and I saw a woman standing at the corner waiting for the light. I felt a little silly, but whatever. The traffic cleared, and as I pulled out and headed into the middle lane - pedestrian lady starts crossing against the light! And when she SEES me, just starts to hustle! Hustle! I'm braking to avoid killing her, there are cars streaming over the hill, it's dark, and she's playing in traffic.

So I yelled at her, too, of course: 'THAT WAS A GOOD IDEA, HUH?' because it is my responsibility to point out to everyone in the world what an idiot they are, especially if they are inconveniencing me. But it was as I continued driving, and people driving around and changing lanes like I wasn't there, that I finally realized: my car had some sort of Invisibility Cloak going on. I need to sell LaFonda to the Department of Defense and retire.

Instead, I'm going to be playing Clay Aiken's "Invisible" all day. Well, no. That would make me crazier than I already am.