A few months ago, I got a new car, which I promptly named 'The Bear.' That's because it feels big and it growls a little being a diesel and all. B-man drove it for the first two weeks because I just couldn't adjust. Behind the wheel, I felt like a two-year-old steering Daddy's grown-up car.
Then suddenly, I fall in love with The Bear. We bond. I even buy white sunglasses to match.
But wait, then I hear something like...I don't know, a low buzz. Yeah, that's it, a buzz. Then I realize that my passenger window is open slightly. I forget about the buzz and reconcile with The Bear.
Until today, when I call B-man right before getting home from work.
Me: Hi - can you meet me outside?
B-man: How come?
Me: 'Cause I need you to drive the car.
B-man: Uh-huh...the noise again?
Me: I don't know, I just need someone else to drive the car.
B-man: Yeah, okay, I'll meet you outside.
We're both in the car.
Me: When I hit 50 mph, that's when the noise starts.
B-man: Are you hearing it now?
Me: So you don't hear it?
Me: Okay, I need to get on the freeway...do you hear it now?
B-man: Nothing but ordinary road noise.
Me: You need to drive.
B-man (driving): Do you still hear it?
Me: Well no, not now.
B-man: I think the car's fine.
Me: Pull over so I can get in the back seat.
Me: So nothin,' right?
B-man: I'm going to say nothin.'
I feel so much better knowing that my car is fine. It's my mind that's gone.
Image from dreamstime.com