For a few hours, I didn’t think about the fact that today was the third anniversary of the day I returned to Sacramento after my three months of homelessness in Los Angeles.
I haven’t owned a car since 2001. On September 5, a week before 9/11, my midnight blue Mazda Miata convertible was repossessed.
In September, I became the proud owner of an Ontario ‘Class G’ full driver’s license. If you are not from Ontario, here are the three tests you must pass in order to get a full driver’s license:
Fast forward ten years and I’m stuck in Woodstock, New York, with a baby in my lap and something called a “Hooter Hider” hanging around my neck. It’s 90 degrees out. I’m texting my friend furiously but she isn’t answering. We have borrowed her car for the weekend, or actually we told her we would ‘babysit’ her car for the week, which is a thing you have to do in the city: babysit cars. That is, agree to move friends’ cars around to different sides of the street on cleaning days so they don’t get tickets.
This year, I learned that sometimes it’s best not to throw in the towel.