My neighborhood is a bunch of single family homes on nice, wooded lots. Everyone has a nice, well kept lawn in the front and most have a fence in the back. Its full of working class people and young families, a couple of old geezers, and me. This is not a neighborhood for sports cars. This is a neighborhood of minivans, SUVs, a few Buick Regals and my Jeep. The most daring car here is a 2010 Mustang, black, driven by an older lady across the street.

The woman next door to me drives a big white Lexus SUV and that thing is always in the shop. I had made the mistake of telling her one time that if she ever needed a ride to work while her car is being repaired, that she can call me any time. Of course, I thought it was going to be a one time repair for a few days. But it has turned out to be endless, ongoing repairs ever since she bought this lemon. I tell you what, after hearing all the problems she has had with that Lexus, I will never buy one of those fuckers.

Last night she called and told me that the Lexus has a bad transmission and that it will be in the shop this whole week. She was practically crying and of course I told her I would be happy to give her a ride to work and home again. So, this morning I had to leave the house about 20 minutes earlier than normal to give myself enough time to fetch her and go to her office, then backtrack in rush hour traffic to get to my office by 8:30. It was close, but I made it with 4 or 5 minutes to spare. Not that anyone watches the clock at my office, but I just hate to be late and take personal pride in being on time 99% of the time.