I’ll call her Beulah.
A little vehicular snobbery is a good thing,
if it’s the thing maintaining ” sane.”
She may be impractical, illogical and improbable,
but I don’t regret taking her home.
Though older, she is timeless.
The roar when I turn the key
is music to me- the same,
no matter where she’s been or is going or for how long.
my moving metaphor
for so many important things.
She springs into motion like a panther on wheels
like a steel sculpture come to life,
when it is necessary, without ambivalence, existentialism or angst.
I don’t have to explain the itinerary in advance.
I can show up, turn the key, and trust I am on the right journey and that I will get there.
She is not resistant to being seen, noticed, talked about or to leaving when it is time.
She’s ok with being red: it was how she was made and what she was made for.
When things are closing in, she reminds me to focus on what is good, fun and and to just keep moving.
So, here is to a little alcove of comfort, beauty and speed in this overcrowded world,
unadulterated, unqualified, unjustified, yet sanctified.
Joy has no price tag.