I commuted to Boston today.
On the Train. Yes, Train.
Train Train Train.
It was uneventful. Seriously. Nothing happened. Ok well one “thing” happened: on the Orange line I did try to squeeze in between two guys and I kind of sat on one of their legs, a little bit. Not enough for me to apologize, but enough that I had to balance all my weight on my toes when I “sat down” if you know what I mean. It was uncomfortable.
I’ve also been listening to this song all day, it’s about a train, it’s called the “Train Song”:
I got a flat tire on Tuesday and I over reacted, I got mad. I know these things happen to “people.” But for as long as I can remember Billy has never done something like that. To me.
We have a certain understanding. I’m not sure why.
Billy is my car.
He doesn’t make any sense. He’s a 2001 Chevy Cavalier….and he just keeps… going. I mean, to be honest a lot of that has to do with my dad, J.Kirk, whom is a “car guy” so, maybe it makes “a little sense.” (Thanks dad!)
(Please note this is not "my" Billy)
From the moment I saw him I was in love. He’s silver and he resembles an alien both on the inside and outside. Smooth weird, egg shaped outside. Alien spit grey and blue on the insides. The light in the middle of the drivers and passenger seat is a perfect alien head and the two light bulbs look like the eyeballs. I’m not kidding, it’s freaky.
A women, whom I don’t know anything about except that she was leaving the country, brought him to my house one fateful day back in 2004. My dad arranged this meeting. I had nothing to do with it. That was it. Thank god for that women.
Sold.
The first CD I played in Billy was Reel Big Fish…….HECK YEAH.
My dad has always taught me to “keep up” with the car. So he has always stayed relatively clean. I like to vacuum him up; I use ArmorAll to make sure his grey plastic shines around my radio and above the steering wheel. I shine his tires too. J.Kirk will wash him when I pull into the driveway. He will also wash your car if you pull into our driveway.
I loved being the DD in high school. Shut up. I liked it. (I’m serious.) I wasn’t a big drinker, but I liked hanging out with my friends. I also liked making sure everyone was safe and sound at the end of their nights. Each ride ended with Billy Joel blasting, or some kind of amazing 90’s hit like this:
I would drop people off one by one and sometimes even receive treats for exchange for the ride; my favorite ones included a big hug, candy or a can of Spaghetti-O’s. (Which I really did receive once.)
Billy has endured some cigarette burns on his interior, but he doesn’t mind. I don’t either; they are scars that remind me of driving and listening to music with friends. A past time that most all Boro folk remember and cherish.
Ice coffee with Kimm and Mindy.
Peace Train Days with Biff Wagon.
Driving up to Vermont with Mikey and Matt screaming this song:
I’ve had some sad moments in Billy as well. At Lyndon State you could usually find me on the hill at the bench. I would drive up there and sit. Ponder life.
He has seen me at my best and my worst.
He has kept me safe.
He drove me to Colorado and back. YEP. Northern route and southern. Heck he’s been in Tennessee, Texas, Nebraska (I hate Nebraska.)
Remember when we discovered we loved Ohio? Oh man, good times.
So, this is my apology to Billy. I’m sorry I got so angry at you on Tuesday.
I’m sorry you’re getting old.
I’m sorry you sound like a race car because your muffler has a hole in it.
I feel like a rotten mother and my baby boy is screaming for attention.
Poor Billy.
Thank you for keeping me safe. I won’t get mad again. I promise.
Your Mama,
Mal
