An Old Car in a New Home

My Birmingham great-nieces have grown up in one car -- their mother's Suburu, which is now my Suburu.  When I drove away in the car last week, they were a bit teary, surprisingly sad to see it go.

What they don't know is why I love the car: it smells like them and their mother.  I'm not sure how long the scent will linger, but for now I am reminded that not all the angels live in Sewanee. 

Transportation Blues

I suppose I should be grateful: the 12-year-old Nissan Sentra has taken me 200,000 miles at  very little cost.  However, it refuses to move even after $500-worth of repairs only two and a half weeks ago.

Grateful is not the first word to leap to mind.  At least not for my car, but certainly it is for my friend Jill who has let me borrow her truck till the "newer" car arrives.

Sewanee is the kind of place where the transportation blues can be friended away.

Healthier Living and Unintended Consequences

My 12-year-old car has officially died.  I am now Carless in Sewanee.

As a result, I bike or walk where I once drove.  For three days running, I have biked to Lake Cheston, 1.5 or 1.7 miles each way (depending on the route).  I can feel muscles in my lower back that I had forgotten were there.  They are now unhappily announcing themselves.  My legs feel stronger already.

Better health may be an unintended consequence of a hunk of metal junk stuck at the end of my driveway.

But so may be a few startling pictures, especially those I took today at a friend's horse pasture.  Had I driven by, I'd never have seen yesterday's Spot-winged Glider swarm or today's Swift Setwings.

When I get a car that works, I may have to reconsider my travel habits.