This first weekend in March has brought highs of eighty-plus for the Valley. And what else is also inevitable, or considered such around here, but car talk?

I left off nearly two months ago with a "new" car ready to pick up and the old one's keys under an adjacent car's tire. Crucial in the mix was the sole one I had for the dutifully applied steering wheel club. Until I could rouse the ailing owner of that vehicle I concentrated on off loading my old heap's treasure trove. The car of course had seat cushions, but those are for living room jokes; we are talking about a trunk bearing chronological layers borne of can't throw ***this*** out, house cleaning displacement and other magical thinking.

While I was in the midst of agonizing over the hostage car keys, a fellow tenant asked me if I had a jack. I was thinking he indicated I could hold that over for the next car, but ten minutes later the thought took hold.

Sometimes I regard such thinking as indicative of an active imagination---after the frustration is resolved. Such was the main reason for this blog. I'm not often practical but can tell stories.

The other car was jacked up enough to retrieve the keys, none bent, and it was off to history.

I have a game of wating to the last second then looking away when the main odometer is about to flip two or more zeros, and on the two mile trip to my mechanic this one flipped 355,200. Gasp, you say. Hey, I had to replace the setup many years ago and there were fewer miles on the next one. Gasp redux. I purchased the car at about 64,000 so "three big ones" were mine. A lot of history went under the wheels: many trips, many work travails, many fitness classes---so many things.

And a lot of magical thinking. Come to think, there were a few hangers in the trunk.