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  • My Honda and I - we have a problem. We're bad communicators. Her transmission doesn't speak English and I don't speak Stick Shift.

    But today was a monumentally momentous occasion.

    My little brother's bus can't weather the tumultuous ocean of slick, muddy, frozen-over frost heaves that litter the roads of our hometown, and as such, when the going gets tough, the bus gets going. In true Vermont fashion, the bus drops him at the junction of three dirt roads and leaves him to either man-up for the remaining four miles home or call me to come pick him up (which, invariably, he does).

    But my Honda, well, she doesn't like to listen. She likes to tell me exactly what she plans on doing approximately thirty seconds after she's done it, and therein lies the problem.

    She likes to play hard to get, especially when I'm still sitting in the driveway. It's a game of me begging her to just go, come on, don't stall while she giggles and tugs at the ends of my hair before she promptly cuts herself off. This game goes on.

    Today, however, we found some common ground. Perhaps she decided her games were getting old, or maybe I finally learned how to play along - but I turned her around without incident, got her out of the driveway smoothly, and even got through the pseudo-swamp road.

    She did stall on me once - in the middle of the road, as I was trying to turn around in someone's driveway - but to be entirely honest, I think she was just reminding me who was really driving who. I would've been surprised if she hadn't.
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