Thursday, November 14, 2013

Here in My Car

I do a lot of outreach as part of my job. It's actually pretty fun. I go to health fairs and retirement homes and senior centers and tell people about the talking books program and whatever events we're doing that month.

I also do a radio show every Tuesday morning. It's only for blind people who have a special receiver, so it's not like any of my friends can hear me, which sort of sucks, but it does give me a funny little chip on my shoulder I never tire of using.

I'll stop to talk to a co-worker for a while on my way out to the radio station. Then I get to end the conversation by saying something like, "Well, that's nice, but I'm going to go read to blind people. I'm sure what you're doing is important, too."

I don't get invited to many work parties any more.

Even cooler than the fact that I get to read to blind people on the radio, and thus get assured a place in Heaven, I get to use the city car at least once a week.

Walking through the parking garage looking for my assigned car, I feel like James Bond, if James Bond had to drive a Ford Taurus station wagon.

I drive the car so much that it's usually in the same space every time I go to get it; in fact, I get sort of pissed if someone else has used it in between trips and has moved it or adjusted the seat or mirrors. "This is MY assigned secret agent car! Don't be messing with my ejector seats!"

Years ago I had a work-study job where I delivered campus mail in a minivan. It was a three hour job that I had figured out how to do in about 20 minutes. I'd use the remaining time to take the minivan to the record store, help people move, or sometimes just drive home for a much-needed nap.

I don't do that with the city car, because now I am old and responsible and afraid of getting in trouble. They would probably take away my license to kill, and I can't have that at my age.

So I drive the speed limit, obey all the traffic laws and use my turn signals (hey, I'm not an animal), and secretly pretend I'm on a mission to track down a turncoat government agent. Sure, it's childish and kinda stupid, but I think I've sort of earned that right.

After all, I read to blind people.

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