Claudia was ready.
The list was in her tablet, which she carried in the nook of her arm.
She knew what she was doing: a slight hint of makeup, curled hair, and flats with a short heel that clicked pleasantly when she walked. Instinctively, she drew out a shawl of classic black lace and put it on, the last piece to make her funeral-perfect.
She knocked on the door, expecting no one to come, even though she knew for a fact he was home.
It was all part of the sale.
The world is full of opportunity for adventure.
Often, we avoid it, not because we don’t want adventures, but because we’re not adventurous.
I fit that description. After all I am a librarian; my profession is not one that attracts the adventurous or the death-defying. There are happy exceptions to this rule, but it is the rule. I like my quiet house. I like my quiet street. I like my quiet library, although it is louder than you might suppose.
One of the things I’ve always wanted to do is become a gear head. I’ve met a lot of these people. I’ve known kids that could swap engines, make SAE racers, all sorts of things. I know a lot of engineers that can work with machines in ways I can barely comprehend. And who doesn’t want to be like that, really? Who doesn’t want dominion over their tools and their machines? To make things that produce power, go fast, and make a lot of noise?
One of my friends, Mike, is one of those gear heads. He’s done work on solar cars while he was in school. Now he’s an engineer for a living. He knows machines inside and out.
He told me once about a race he does. They’re all around the country, but find an easy home here in Michigan. They’re called 24 Hours of LeMons. Continue reading