The Red R on the front of my car is still there, but it moved–to my new plates. I came prepared to wait at the Registry, so I waited and knitted. Exchanging my plate was a breeze. Then came the moment of truth: could I get the new red plate into the front holder?
Yes! After all our fretting and worry and attacking the plate holder posts from all directions, it turned out that I only needed to bend the new plate a little to wedge it into the plate holder. Then a drive to the dealership and some more waiting and knitting and voila! My car is inspected.
I realize difficulty is more entertaining, but the evening just got better. When I filled up my gas tank, I got full-serve at the self-serve price, a woman let me go ahead of her at the checkout at the pet store, and I ran across a couple friends at the grocery store. Best of all, even though I’m in a good mood, I have an excuse to eat oysters.
The closest thing I have to a complaint is regret that it’s too dark to get a picture of the new R. To be updated. Cheers!
Updated 2/11/09 to add the picture of the R.
Writing Every Day 
Here in my car, I feel safest of all…
I have not seen a “full service” pump at a gas station in years. I once mistakenly pulled up to one on my motorcycle back in the 1980s. The attendant was flummoxed. “How do I get the gas tank open?” he asked. “Are you sure you want to be here?”
Although the gas cap on that motorcycle did not lock, no one ever messed with it. Not that it matters, the locking gas cap thing is really silly. If you check almost any motorcycle, you’ll see that it has a gasoline petcock on the left side. Attach your rubber hose here, turn the petcock to “P,” and you can drain the motorcycle’s tank without using the gas cap. Glug glug glug.
Okay, I’m not supposed to post “how to commit a crime” tips online. So let’s get to the topic.
Science fiction relating to cars:
Among other things, Isaac Asimov wrote stories about cars with robotic positronic brains. The one we all remember the best is “Sally.”
Harlan Ellison wrote “Along the Scenic Route” about a highway duel. This story is collected in “Deathbird Stories.” I’m not a Harlan Ellison fan. Read this story anyway.
I still have my beat-up copy of Deathbird Stories, along with the Dangerous Visions anthologies and some other earlier Ellison work including collections of his savagely bitter TV reviews, The Glass Teat. Haven’t much by him lately, though.
Hmm. Car-related SF…All I can think of is Mad Max.
Okay, I bought motorcycle #5 today. Hadn’t awakened with the idea of getting a motorcycle today, but I saw a Honda Pacific Coast on Craigslist at a price that was too good to be true. It’s 20 years old, somewhat scraped, in need of a tune-up and a new speedometer cable, but still, running okay when it’s warmed up. It’s a sort of sport-touring motorcycle, but there’s nothing sporty about it and it’s too small to be a touring motorcycle.
Oops, this isn’t my blog.
I mentioned above that I’m not an Ellison fan. In my teenager years, it was because, well, I liked stuff by other authors and not his stuff. Tastes are supposed to change as you grow older, but… I still don’t like Ellison’s stuff.
I saw him speak once, and he was really down on TV. Too much, I thought. He was down on movie people too. He spent a lot of time whining about how some producer’s wife didn’t like a scene he’d written for “I Robot” that had an ignored naked woman in it. Oy.