July 28, 2017

Friday Morning

On the way to the office this morning, at a stoplight, I heard a familiar and annoying noise. It was automotive and I knew it lead to annoyance.

I could not place it to save my life.

I knew my car should be vibrating violently but it wasn't. It was running so smoothly I had to look at the RPM gauge to be sure it was still running.

Therefore, it had to be another car and a trick of acoustics made it sound as if it were coming from mine.

A glance across the intersection, next to the CVS, a slight haze of smoke caught my eye. In the midst of that smoke was one of the last surviving examples of a Yugo still on the road. The noise puzzle was complete. It was a busted motor mount. I know this because my ex had one and it once had a broken mount that I had to repair.

A mood to match the overcast settled over me. Memories of being inside, outside and underneath a car as broken as the relationship that obligated me to be there in the first place.

Not the way I wanted to start a Friday morning.

Rather than let unpleasant memories from twenty plus years ago invade my head, I thought of the earlier part of the morning. Grabbing my laptop bag and heading out. Sidekick was on the floor in the living room doing her morning yoga. She was in some oddball pose with arms outstretched. So, I bent down, shook her left hand and said, "Good morning to you, Smithers. Glad you could make it". Her giggling was the last thing I heard as I walked into the sunroom on my way to the driveway.

Mood instantly elevated.

No real end to the story. It's just stuck in my mind still.