Train Spotting (No, not the movie.)

And by the above title I really mean Spotting from Trains.

Two weeks ago I was asked by my boss to take the notary public exam. Not realizing that the only place for me to take it was on William Street in Manhattan, I foolishly agreed. (Well perhaps not foolishly, now if anyone needs to take an oath or sign an affidavit, I'll be ready.) Anyway, since driving to lower Manhattan isn't something I do regularly nor is it something which I would like to take up as a hobby, I took the Metro-North Commuter Rail down to Grand Central. Just as it's about 45 minute to the Bronx, it's about and hour and change to GCT. (In fact, I passed the building I work in on the train down.) I caught an early train, but not quite as early as all of the people who work on Wall Street or Midtown so, as I bumped and swayed my way down the train tracks, I was not surprised to see all of station parking lots were pretty much filled.  I saw many normal commuter cars- Toyotas, Jeeps, Chryslers, Dodges, Chevys and the like. I also saw my fair share of Porsche's, Beemers, Mercs, Audis.  Now, normally I would just focus of those cars which put a smile on my face. But this particular day, I was struck by how disappointing this view was, no matter what the car.

Now, most people will think this is insane and it is, but I can't help it. I think that the relationship between a driver and his/her car is symbiotic - both parties getting something out of the deal. I mean think about it, when you drive what do you get out of it? At the very bare minimum you get from point A to point B. At the very most, you feel the wind in your hair, good music in your ears and a special charge running through your veins and you find yourself hoping and praying that the sensation will continue long after you've reached your destination. Now, what's to say that a car can't and doesn't feel much the same thing? I know, the only thing holding you back from jumping into this idea is logic. "Inanimate objects can't feel or think, Claire. Come back to reality."  But just for the moment, as you're reading this, pretend that logic doesn't exist. Just go with the possibility that a car is a partner in this driving experience. Let me plead my case.  A car doesn't get driven for a while what happens to it? It dies. All of the important pieces, not from abuse or wear and tear but simple lack of use can no longer perform their functions. It's like a car depression, really. No, I love my car, and I firmly believe that it loves me. I treat it well, and it reciprocates. I give it a good time and it returns the favor.

So, anyway, I watched all of these cars sitting in the lots and it struck me as sad. These cars don't lead a fulfilling existence. They sit in a parking lots of hours at a time, baking the sun, with not so much as a though or a heat shield from the driver. Cars are meant to be driven, not spend most of their time in parking lots.

And you thought you couldn't get mushy about cars.

Eyes Open,

Claire