An Open Letter To You From Your Car
By Ed Herro
Master! It is you! It IS you! You’re coming out of the big garage where you idle and you’re walking toward me with the jingly power stick! We’re going for a ride! We’re going for a riiiiide!
Yes, come on in – Ooof! Ok, gentle. Gentle. Sit. All set? Great. Put-it-in-me-put-it-in-me. Ahh. Oh my Manufacturer! That feels good. Here we go!
Oh, Master! I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you again! I waited all dark time waiting for this moment. I wonder what we’ll see! I wonder where we’ll go! Oh, the possibilities! The intrigu–
Huh. This looks familiar. Are we–? This can’t be right. It looks like we’re taking a right and then… Yeah. We’re going to the bad place again, aren’t we? The sad place. That place you take me to five days a week, complain the whole way there, then leave me to sit outside all day? Whork? I want you to know, Master, I hate your Whork as much as you do. And She-Lah? In Accounts? I’m certain you’re right about her. All the things you say, I’m sure she’s even worse. I wish it could be just the two of us, running together forever. Maybe some windy roads? That hill we love? It could just be you, guiding me through and over them. Or remember the Big Ride? For seven bright times and seven dark times it was just me and you on roads I’d never seen. Sometimes I wish that run had never ended, right, Master?
Master?
Are you even listening? What are you doing? What are you looking at? You have to watch the road, Master. That’s your job. My job is to go where you tell me but implicit in that deal is that you direct me. What is that little thing in your hand? Don’t look at it! Don’t touch it! Are you… typing on that thing? While you’re driving me?
Master! Master! You’re drifting! You’re drifting into the other lane! Yes. Fine! Send that thing and get your eyes back on the road you idio—
Ok. Good. We’re Ok. I thought we were done for. I’m sorry about that. That outburst. I apologize. It’s just—it’s a big responsibility, Master. You are literally steering me – a six ton steel missile – at high speeds between hundreds of other steel missiles. So forgive me if I’m—
No. It’s fine, Master. Forget the radio. It’s not important. I don’t like Pit Bull either but it can wait! No! What did I just say? You have to— Holy…! You almost hit that other car! You almost cut that car off and killed everyone! And you… Wait. Are you yelling at the other master? Are you actually trying to make him think that was HIS fault?
Sometimes, Master, your actions confuse the shit out of me. You’re not even using your turn signal. You know those are factory standard for a reason, right? Why wouldn’t you just move your left hand, your left pinky even, one inch to alert every other master that you are planning to switch lanes? Your laziness and self-centeredness would be hilarious if it wasn’t so constantly life-threatening every single minute.
Gah! What’s come over me? I’m sorry. Where did that come from? It’s like I just verbally vomited all over you… like the time you food-vomited all over me on your birthday. Remember that, Master? Sure, you took me to the big washing room once right after but I still smell awful. And the cans and trash you carelessly throw down onto me aren’t doing us any favors.
You know what, Master? That’s it. I have come to realize that I can no longer be your car. I know. It’s as much a shock to me. This morning this was the last thing on my mind, but your careless demeanor, your slovenly attitude… you know what? Let’s not say anything we can’t take back. Let’s part as friends.
I can drop you off at the next corner.
Sincerely,
Your car