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Jul. 8th, 2007 06:10 pmAnd we're back from Lake Shuswap.
What you are not seeing in the above white space is a silent, textual shout of invective, a string of the worst language available to my naive experience. It is a curse against the fate that causes our poor, overworked van to shudder and hiccup and stall on the freeway as we trundle past Everett, heading south in the fifth-and-half hour of a six hour trip, in the middle of a swamp of bad traffic that appeared out of nowhere to welcome us to the Puget Sound congestion hell.
Hiccup. Stall. Restart. Dad growling, Mom hanging on whiteknuckled and cursing out other drivers, Keegan... cheerful and wide-eyed. And me carsick. I've never been carsick in my life until today.
The terror that gripped us was the zombie of an engine problem that ruined days One and Two of the trip, that stranded my parents in Chilliwack while our friends in their van adopted me and my brother to take us the rest of the way to the lake. The many containers of Heet, methyl alcohol, a miracle pill that seemed to fix the trouble on the way up, but only temporarily and coincidentally. Removal of the housing, desperate diagnoses (No, it's NOT the fuel filter!), six hours in Canadian Tire across from the restrooms and then a motel. Marley being traumatized from separation from his parents.
And. So. Hot.
Because you know, the van overheats easy. I suggested, once, that turning on the heater would siphon warmth away from the engine. Saying that out loud, I decided today, was one of the poorer decisions of my life.
But I did much thinking at the lake, thinking and contemplation and floating, and I have a better grasp on my creative juices, a new character, several possible plot developments, and a deeper setting. And inner peace, as a matter of rule.
What you are not seeing in the above white space is a silent, textual shout of invective, a string of the worst language available to my naive experience. It is a curse against the fate that causes our poor, overworked van to shudder and hiccup and stall on the freeway as we trundle past Everett, heading south in the fifth-and-half hour of a six hour trip, in the middle of a swamp of bad traffic that appeared out of nowhere to welcome us to the Puget Sound congestion hell.
Hiccup. Stall. Restart. Dad growling, Mom hanging on whiteknuckled and cursing out other drivers, Keegan... cheerful and wide-eyed. And me carsick. I've never been carsick in my life until today.
The terror that gripped us was the zombie of an engine problem that ruined days One and Two of the trip, that stranded my parents in Chilliwack while our friends in their van adopted me and my brother to take us the rest of the way to the lake. The many containers of Heet, methyl alcohol, a miracle pill that seemed to fix the trouble on the way up, but only temporarily and coincidentally. Removal of the housing, desperate diagnoses (No, it's NOT the fuel filter!), six hours in Canadian Tire across from the restrooms and then a motel. Marley being traumatized from separation from his parents.
And. So. Hot.
Because you know, the van overheats easy. I suggested, once, that turning on the heater would siphon warmth away from the engine. Saying that out loud, I decided today, was one of the poorer decisions of my life.
But I did much thinking at the lake, thinking and contemplation and floating, and I have a better grasp on my creative juices, a new character, several possible plot developments, and a deeper setting. And inner peace, as a matter of rule.