heading to an evening meeting (short walk + 14) alone, sans baby pack or bag o’ tricks, wearing: shoes with a little flavor (nothing “earthy” about ’em), that gorgeous coat handed down from your fashion-plate mother, and your now rarely used shmipod, turned up to a volume that is surely damaging your ears (but it’s been so long since you’ve listened to Goapele!) and is preventing you from making progress on that novel you’re so enjoying–which is OK, really, because the author is such an amazing writer you’d gladly read one of her sentences 100 times, and you’re not in any hurry to finish.
Today I rented a Flexcar (for the first time since January) and brought along two of my favorite CDs for the ride. I have to say, there’s nothing like rollin’ through the streets of your city on a sunny(ish) afternoon, windows down, blasting Erykah Badu’s “Cleva” as loud as it will go.
Fellow car-free types: What do you miss about driving?
walking to the bus stop after a long day at work, on a sunny evening when the mountain is out and your schmipod is playing a song so good you don’t care who sees you groovin’ down the sidewalk. Happiness turns to pure bliss when you also happen to be on your way home to watch game three of the Eastern Conference semifinals. (Go Pistons!)