Coughing and Mufflers
I was driving home from Needham where I had just spoken to a smart and compassionate group at the Unitarian Universalist Meeting House in Needham (compassionate because they put up with my hoarse voice and my coughs and my need to chew gum and cough drops), when my car began to make a rumbling noise and then a roaring noise, or more precisely, a roaring kind of sound (This is how I described it to my mechanic on his voicemail). When it didn’t explode, I realized it was probably the muffler. Then I had a coughing fit, the kind where I couldn’t see and was worried that I was going to kill myself and others. I reminded myself that this was not the worst thing that has happened to me with this car and that although it felt like this was a new low in my travails, really it was only medium low. For example, there was the time when the car only blew cold air and it was minus seven degrees and my son and I were sick and I cried. Or, the time, the mechanic ordered me out of the car because it had no brakes and I had to rent a car in order to get to school in time to pick up my son. Besides, the muffler is probably my fault and so I feel guilty. I go racing over the speed bumps at Endicott and so this is probably retribution of some kind. The bright spot is remembering the terrific Needham group and the nice man who volunteered to go get my books from my car even though it was raining. I had left them there because I always feel stupid bringing them in for people to buy. Who has the money to buy hardbacks? I don’t. I am worried about finding the money for a new muffler. This nice man is also a Battlestar Galactica fan. And, he is writing about how the brain works. I would like to know how my brain works, so I hope he finishes his book soon.