Cheap little-old-lady thrills

Keith's motorcycle went on strike when he was on his way to work Monday. Wednesday in some sort of automotive solidarity, the car Holly drives died downtown when she had Clare with her. It caused car shortage.

Today I needed to go out, and Marty let me take his Jeep Wrangler. I've driven it before, but never with all its parts off. No roof, no doors. It was awesome. It's powerful and tight and wiry and zippy.

Even though I did a classic set of mom-errands (doctor's office to get shots for India; post office to mail a book; repair shop to pick up my vaccum cleaner), it's a pretty sexy vehicle.  I can tell why Marty wanted one and why he loves it.

I was never more than three miles from the house. On the way home I went two blocks out of my way to the day-old bread store, just to drive it a little more and to go home where the speed bumps and drainage-intersections are. Yeah. I was cool for a little while.

Here was my passenger: