Miles per quart

So a few days ago, I'm headed to work when this riced out Honda gets onto the freeway. Normally I can ignore the little red car with the coffee can muffler, however this one had gone out of his way to make sure you noticed. And believe me, I've never noticed a rig like this one before!

Before I get too far into things, I should mention that I've driven my share of older vehicles. I'm aware that as they age things begin to happen. However I also know that certain things only happen because of abuse or severe neglect.

This number was spewing forth clouds of smoke. I don't mean that it was giving out a large puff every time the accelerator was pressed either. Remember the video game "Spy Hunter" when you would pick up the smokescreen? Clouds of thick grey smoke would cover the entire lane. Visibility in the murk was reduced it was so dense.

Now while I didn't spin wildly out of control, I can say that the breathability of the air did reduce me to a choking cough. I don't have AC in my van and so drive with my windows down as much as weather permits. I wouldn't be overly surprised to find out the particulate matter I was exposed to by this mobile nightmare will eventually lead to a terminal case of lung cancer.

Even worse for me, I was stuck, unable to pass or even switch lanes for over a mile! Thus was my innocent day destroyed by some ignoramus. I say so because it was inescapable for anyone else to not be aware of the vehicular hazard they were driving and fail to have it repaired.

My only consolation was to tell myself that one of two things are going to take place. Either the nut behind the wheel was able to successfully get his doomed Japanese wheels to a mechanic, or the engine seized leaving him hopelessly stranded! I mean really, I can understand burning a bit of oil in an older engine, but when the leak is so bad that you can measure your mileage in quarts of oil per mile, you've gone beyond reasonable.

Because you asked

Softly, so that my footsteps make no sound, I would approach. Gently, my hands and arms would encircle your waist, drawing you closer to me. Feeling like the luckiest man in the world, my mind would reel like an apprentice seaman weathering his first hurricane. 

Standing there, like two perfectly matched puzzle pieces, I'd lean my head towards the nape of your neck. With gentle caresses, my lips would find the curve there. Between kisses, I'd whisper the love that fills my heart.

Pulse racing, I'd work my way around your gentle form. At every moment struggling to maintain the intimacy created by two people madly in love.

Finding your face, my hands would be drawn impulsively toward your skin. With the lightest brush of fingertips, I'd make electric contact with your visage. Sweeping back along your cheek to find the silken strands of your hair.

The pleasure of the fabric of you hair flowing past my hands once again draws me in to you. The pools of your eyes have me drowning, not for air, but for the feeling of your mouth pressed against my own. 

Unable to stop, I move toward the soft lips. Time has stopped for everyone else, only we two are aware of any movement as we are brought into contact. There, we touch causing waves of power to flow through my being. It's as if I could command the universe at this moment.

We remain, arms closed about each other. Unaware of the world and it's cares, we continue, lips and mouths occasionally parting. Sharing together the pleasure of the moment with eyes softly shut.

After lifetimes pass in this position, we draw apart. Eyes locked in love. My heart overflowing with emotion. Eternities seem to crash into nothingness now that it's over, my desperation to again approach the infinite overwhelms my soul and once again, I have to kiss your lips and face. Showering you in the passion of my heart.