I am in a car, with two men. My car. The 1986 Honda Civic Si, it's been having problems. We just got it from the mechanic. Stole it, I think, because he won't answer phone calls, won't say what is wrong with it. Well, he says he's found something and then another two or three weeks go by.
I worry that he's drag racing it. Silly.
But we have it and then somehow we manage to pick him up.
"This looks like a Honda I've been working on."
R is driving. Sedately for him. "Oh, great car, another one?" he says cheerfully.
"Yeah," says Mechanic. He is oil colored, a fine sheen of oil everywhere, clothes, face, hands, skin, neck. I wonder if he is oil colored all over when he takes his clothes off. Well, his genitals would be, wouldn't they, since he has to pee, right? I promptly try to think of a different image.
R is asking about the Honda the Mechanic is working on. Which is this one. "Oh, well, that woman who owns it, she's driving me crazy. She thinks she knows things. She wants to be a shipwright. She wants to SAND, for Christ's sake."
I feel ashamed and angry. It's true, I do like to work with tools, to balance my earning job which is 99% brain. Not just girl tools like needle and thread, knitting needles, crafts, but hammer and nails and sander, damn it. What is wrong with that?
We turn on him, all three of us. We take turns letting him know that this is the Honda he is working on and I am that woman. At a light, we encourage him to get out. The stoplight is in Portland, Oregon, on 35th Street. He will have to walk 10 blocks back to the garage.
His parting shot, "It's the S------. Good luck with that." He gets out, slamming the door.
R is silent. He drives on.
I am not a mechanic but it's a part I've never heard of. Not solenoid. The car is loud and the Honda is clearly not fixed. It's 30 years old. My Ex's father was the first owner and gave it to us in about 1990. I have two other cars. It's partly loud because my Ex put an after market air intake on that makes it sound like a rocket when it accelerates. "Expensive?" I ask. I am thinking. Parts car? But that is stupid. I don't really have time for that sort of project, I am not a good internet surfing part finder and I am not a good enough mechanic to do it myself. I love the Honda partly because it is so stupidly reliable. It was running on 2 of the four cylinders. Sounded horrible but it still RAN. Now it is back on four, but .... how much more should I put into it?
.... and I wake up.
The car is real, R is real, the Mechanic is real and the Honda really was down to 2 cylinders.... but the Mechanic gave it back. It still needs a new muffler since running on 2 cylinders was not good for the exhaust. I understand how it feels, I keep thinking that the car is younger than me....
Another dream of fours.