Where is my flying car?

Where is my flying car?
Where is my flying car?

Or for that matter, where is my car at all.

Of late I've discovered that I am a great deal more pedestrian than has often been characteristic. I think there is something to learn from this.

You don't need a car if the other people around you have them. If you are entertaining enough, someone will always provide you with food and a good laugh.

I think I learned a bit of this from my Irish friend patrick, who got along without a car for a good long time before he ever got one, and now that he has one he treasures it, even though it is a Geo Metro. For one, it is fuel efficient, and for two, no matter how many miles he put on it, it was always for something productive that furthered his career.

Now, it would seem, having squandered all of my resources, I'm falling to the same trouble, carlessness. I always hoped I'd have the Mr. Fusion thing from Spielberg's movie. Unfortunately, I'm not lucky enough to have a Mad Scientist next door, I have to do that part all on my own.

So for now, and since the availability of this system is here, whatever world this represents, real or fictional, whether Penguin will ever chronicle any of this seriously, I'll be yammering and hammering away, to try to keep the story going for as long as I can hold out, or at least until something better comes along. Like the next fine young woman with a vehicle, which for all of my best intentions, may never come about.

This is not to say I'm a "gangster of love" like the stupid Axe commercial would tell you, I'd much prefer to play tag. Especially since they had all those twisted "order of the serpent" commercials...Who the hell wants a serpent under his armpit? Certainly not me....

Lithos - The answer indeed is blowing in the wind. - Thanks for that bit of Bob Dylan to help ease the evening a bit. I know where my fate lies already for the most part...I just wonder -

Where is my flying car?