That’s What I Call Low Clouds

Back and forth, back and forth, twenty trips on the I-5 between Olympia and Seattle.

I’m actually effectuating our move in a minivan, and I am doing it a few months ahead of schedule. I’ve had two homes for some time, but I am finally consolidating. After all, it’s a recession for me too, and I see no signs of it getting better.

To say that my new crib is “central” would be an understatement. I am now within a 1-15 minute walk (not drive but walk) to Pike Place, Capitol Hill, First Hill, Pioneer Square, and an attraction to which I am getting a yearly pass … The Space Needle.

In Las Vegas, I frequently begged The Stratosphere for a yearly pass to the observation deck, but they always invited me to fornicate myself rectally with an angry barracuda. Not in those words, of course, but the effect was the same … to inform me “no, and please stop asking”.

I am also once again about to de-join the ranks of automobile owners.

Transmissions, tires, oil changes, parts and labor, shoddy warranty repairs, loans, interest, blown radiators, $7/hr for parking, insurance, tickets … that stuff is for somebody else, but certainly not for me. I’ve never been that guy. I’ve tried, really I have, but I just can’t get down with it. It feels like a huge ball and chain around my ankle. I feel like I work for the car more than the car works for me. Save me a seat on the bus or the train, or make sure my bike tires have air, and I’m golden.

When the last box is moved, I am selling my vehicle, and I endeavor to be car-free for the rest of my life. I am completely serious. After 2011, I plan to never again own an automobile.

Ever.

Ever.

Ever.

Ever.

Although I have to be honest, with scenery such as this, Seattle commutes are not that bad.