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| so I have to start somewhere, turning on the ignition, maybe pumping the gas pedal first, maybe once, twice, maybe twice and hold it down, then waiting ten seconds, then finally turning the key to IGN, making the battery groan with the amperage pull to crank the flywheel fast enough to fire that internally combusting MACHINE to its own self-referential life. The rearview tells whether the hydrocarbon mix is favorable, or whether the wind is blowing, a cop tail-gaiting with Lights flashing, or if there is a short-skirt floating past the fragmentary view of the world, reversed and virtual. |