Is My Co-Pilot

I hopped out of the car for a second to get the mail and when I got back in a big emerald-green dragonfly was trapped over the dash at the windshield, panicking and trying its luck against the glass.

I reassured it that it was in no danger and that 90 percent of the time everything turns out okay, then rolled down all the car windows and waited, but the windshield, I guess, looked just as good. So I pointed the car in the direction of town and started driving, and said, "Are you my co-pilot?" The dragonfly grew so quiet I thought it might have died of a little heart attack, but it was only tired because soon it revived a bit. The car windows were down but it wasn't leaving. I figured there might be air pressure from the moving car and figured that after I stopped it might get its bearings. While I was figuring, up and out it went.

Until I saw the photo I didn't see the gorgeous large shadow its wings cast in the slanted sunlight.

My Life

Once in a while a sight moves me to the core for no reason and I take a photo and think, "My life. I've just captured my life." And so it was, with this vista of a wildly gorgeous August sky as a cool front drove storm clouds away from Ste. Genevieve, and my happy reminder reflected in the corner of the windshield. My life. . .is a highway. I grade it A. I've made it to the junction of 55. Ahead is open space, an open road (and full-grown corn). The sky's the limit. Things are always working out for me.

I Got Me New Tars

I bought 4 new tires and I could just cry -- not because of their price, because $97 per tire is not outrageous for these good ones, Bridgestones -- but for how long I rode around on tires so crummy they changed my whole way of driving. It so happened that I thought my mechanics were rotating my tires at every oil change when they weren't, and the mechanic one day said when did you last rotate your tires, and I said, I thought you were doing that (never assume) and he said, come on out to the bay and see the uneven wear on your tires.

I thought, oh, no. He showed me the tire treads and seemed very serious. Does this mean I need new tires? I asked. If you rotate them can I still use them?

He said yes, but you should really get new ones.

Will these kill me? I asked.

No, they won't kill ya. But at high speeds you will feel a vibration.

So without ready money to buy a whole new set* (I'd just paid mucho dinaro to remove from the car a 10-inch dent that went down to the metal) I drove around for six or seven months on the unevenly worn tires, becoming more cautious, creeping across ice and praying, skidding when I braked in rain and in 1/16th of an inch of snow, hydroplaning on the freeway (the weirdest, sickest feeling), and just the other week the car, using momentum, skidded despite my braking out of the lane and right into Highway F where anybody could have been coming.

After fishtailing last week, almost hitting some railings, I told myself: Either you pay $500 deductible for repairs after smashing your car, or you pay $500 for new tires. Which will it be?

Very fortunately I had overpaid quarterly taxes and got a refund. I said to myself: What will you do with this refund? Will you be stupid and buy earrings? (I love earrings; have 4 piercings in each earlobe.)  Well, to pacify my inner Zsa Zsa I bought $40 worth of cheap earrings and earring parts for repair. Then I manned up and bought new tires.

Oh -- how different! I'd been driving fearfully, distrustfully, braking before I had to, taking it very slow around curves, fearing gravel, sand, and salt on the winter roads, worried about driving in rain. True, those tires did not kill me, but I am so relieved they are gone.

*the last time I bought new tires was at the Auto Tire. They put three 16-inch tires on my car and one 15-inch. I thought my one wheel well looked odd, but I didn't know from Adam or how to read tires. Besides, I trusted the professionals. About four months later a man noticed, circled the car and told me. That setup might have killed me. Better believe I bought these new "tars" elsewhere where there's free lifetime tire rotation. It's where the rubber meets the road.

Driving (Me Nuts)

2002 Buick Century

"Stop! There's a stoplight!" "Mom, I see it." "I thought you weren't going to stop." "Mom, I know a red light means stop." "But you weren't slowing down." "Mom, I don't ride the brake. I step on the brake when we get closer to the light." "You scared me. I thought you weren't going to stop." "The state of Missouri thinks I can drive, Mom." "But you don't know this place or where the stoplights are!" "Mom, I have eyes, I can see the stoplights. I am not stupid." "I'm not saying you're stupid, I'm saying you don't know how to drive here." "I've been driving for 40 years, Mom." "Now the light is going to turn green." "Yes,  I know." "And when it turns green, you go." "Yes, Mom, I know that." "I'm just trying to help, I don't want a smash-up." "There won't be any smash-up." "I worry. I don't want to wreck the car" [2002 Buick Century,  44,000 miles]. "I won't wreck the car." "Now turn here; look both ways. No, no, not here; I didn't want to turn here, I meant the next one." [Stony silence from driver.] "Now here comes a car; watch out, there's a car!" (Gasps, clutches car seat.) "Mom, I see the car." "It was coming right at us!" "No, it was in its lane." "I don't want us to get hit!" "Mom, I think (laughing) you might be a control freak." "Oh, you talk so nasty to me. You make me cry. You cut me to the heart" (weeping). "That doesn't work on me anymore, Mom." "You called me a freak (weeping) and you called me something else before."[Thirty seconds of stony silence.] "Now we're at 56th. In two more blocks we'll be at 58th."

The First Tomato and the Flag Man

With awe I watched the hard little green pearls of May turn into the fat green beads of early June. Then one of them grew fat and soft, took on a lemony tinge, and then a red. And here it is. Gem of all gems. Summer's first tomato.

This is better than an award, better than a military decoration. It's beautiful, shiny, and fit. God, who is an artist, packaged this little, special gift of food. Not only is it wonderfully colored and crafted -- it will taste good and nourish the body. Great work, God! (Applause.) And, God, I'm sorry I've been tied up in the rush and details of life and not seeing the depths and wonders of your creations.

When I'm sitting in traffic waiting for a flagman to direct the rush hour around road construction, I like to remind myself that the flagman, who stands in hot sunlight on hot asphalt and deals all day with irritable and inconsiderate drivers -- is one of God's wonderful creations, is doing God's work of caring for us regardless of who we are, and that someone loves him very much.