Last night I was a pseudo-Uber driver for my husband and his friends, who went out drinking (more) in the pub. His friends noticed my driving. I was not revving enough with my car, a Honda hatchback; not revving enough when between gear. I found it a bit insulting when one of his friend changed the gear for me. And I pretended I was dumb as fuck, giving into his masculine superiority. Insulting because I felt I was driving a stranger's car all of a sudden for the first time. Who was I kidding, someone was changing gear with me. I was not in control. Again, I could not feel the car in its entirety.
Like everything else in my life. I feel. Whether or not it is animate or inanimate, I have to feel with it; become one with it; establish a cosmic relationship. Yes, comic. Energy-driven. I mean, everything functions because of energy, even a seemingly motionless and lifeless rock. A rock is alive because it exists with the energy around it. It would move eventually, say because of a running water. Does it make sense?
I know I am not the greatest driver. I may under-driving the capability of my car. However, I am one with the car. I mean, when I rev so much, I could hear the car screaming. But hey I have not gotten the memo about "more revs is good for the car." I am not even going to Google that shit. Seriously. I am going to drive my car like my daddy has taught me, "Rev within 2-2,500 RPM. Don't let the engine hold its breath." Apparently, the engine should hold its breath in order to get its true muscle. *Roll eyes*. Men and their cars. I respect it, but I understand now the description "lady-owned car" when selling a used car. It sounds like Catch 22. Almost?
What-fuck-ever,
sC