I stretched. I breathed. My coffee slid back over this way, within reach again. Didn’t spill a drop. The interior was clean and the upholstery dry, even in the rain with a window stuck down part way all night. The road behind us with the sun now rising. I’d just cracked my knuckles before a whirring IBM Selectric and was about to light into the day’s first line
when Candy said,
Why go for electricity? If not
For speed? Power steering
Power return, power this power
That. Moving parts
Whirring.
How does that work?
—
Like a basilisk in a Cadillac
Scales sleek & black
Gliding through
The Forest green & lush & heavy
In the wake of a storm.
—
Oh? Speed and shiny paint? What’s all that noise and rhyming?
—
Perhaps a rattly window?
I know a driver/mechanic/tuner guy
Keeps the wipers going.
I didn’t say shiny. You did.
—
Rain you say? Got rhythm too?
—
Wanna go for a ride?
—
How many cupholders have you?
—
None. Though I have spools of ink onboard and this open space alloy monocoque chassis design could easily accommodate cups, plus: dual pitch, margin slides, tabs galore, and pretty chrome levers of my own topside, some of which I’ve yet to touch. Only so many fingers free at a time & we’re driving; albeit with power steering on a Correcting Selectric II with an EXP key. Think it
. . & we’re already there.
…… . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . And back again. Tennis, anyone?
—
You switch pitch on the fly?
—
And fonts in a click.
—
That sounds scary.
—
It gets us where we’re going.
—
Photo by Filip Zrnzević on Unsplash