Cars are sexy, beautiful creations that promise a world of speed and freedom. They are also symbols of risk and danger. By the episode’s end, neither Mary nor Edith is entirely ready to embrace the risks of a new relationship. But, as Tom says, "Being hurt is part of being alive."

I’ve spent a lot of the last year driving back and forth across and up and down the United States in that awkward quarter-life crisis period toeing the, uh, thin line between “work” and “pleasure” in a precarious economy. You’d think that by the time I moved from rural California to Iowa by myself (with my bike strapped to the top of my car, in the span of three days), I would have figured out…

Geo Tracker – I didn't have a driver's license yet, just a ticket for underage drinking Buick Century – Bench seats in the front and the back Honda Accord – His mom and dad were home Volkswagen Beetle – Technically, we just got high in the airport parking lot Dodge Turbo convertible – "Exile in Guyville" was stuck in the tape deck Dodge Tradesman – Fuck yeah, you can reach the mini-fridge and the ashtray…

Yesterday, the following things happened to me in quick succession:

THING THE FIRST: I DESTROYED my deadlifting personal best at the YMCA.
THING THE SECOND: At almost the exact same time, someone smashed my car open and stole my stuff.
THING THE THIRD: I found a dollar on the ground! An entire dollar bill! Right there, on the ground!

So things are pretty much a wash.

It's true. I have recently (yesterday!) purchased a motor vehicle. It was a pleasant and invigorating experience, and my car is very beautiful and full of confusing technology and excessive purse storage. I have named him Dracarys, and he will serve me well. Having accomplished this task in less than 48 hours with only a brief flurry of emails, one telephone call outsourced to A Man, and a ten-minute in-person visit merely to sign pre-arranged…

It was roughly ten years ago that the editor of a small literary journal called me with an invitation to contribute. He'd seen my letter to another publication and noticed that, at least by rural standards, we lived fairly close to one another. I liked his paper, especially the book reviews, but it didn't feel like a venue where my ideas would be welcome. A nice place to visit as a reader, sure, but without…