As I was driving to work this morning, I noticed a faint, burning smell, which made me instantly nervous because the last time I had noticed that particular smell, my engine exploded. Granted, that was my old car and this is my new(er) car, and so far, all the problems I've ever had with this car have been a direct result of Things I Have Done. Leaving the parking brake on while driving across town, for example, caused the once-silent brakes to squeal and express their general unhappiness. And then, there was the time when I swerved to avoid a cow (yes, a cow) and got too close to a dump-truck, which then threw a very large rock at me, causing what has become a very large crack in my windshield. But even knowing that my current car has never given me cause for concern, my first reaction when I got a whiff of that burned smell was to hit my brakes and stare suspiciously at my hood for any telltale smoke. Luckily for me, there was none.
Not so luckily for the guy driving the Very Old Car in front of me, there WAS smoke coming up out of his hood. In fact, it's what I would have defined as A LOT OF SMOKE. An unhealthy amount of smoke, even. And yet, he seemed completely unconcerned as he just continued driving on through that haze. People on the sidewalk pointed and stared. Cars that were around him slowed down so that if he did explode, we wouldn't explode along with him. And STILL, he was perfectly unconcerned. So I gotta ask: what kind of life experience makes you that calm in the face of potential death? Does his engine just catch on fire so regularly that it's now a commonplace part of his life? My curiosity about this guy has been hopelessly, irrevocably piqued.
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