06 October 2008

Intentionally vague.

They told her to make sure to visit this place that sells the most interesting boots in the world. She is going there for business. There. That town that would normally never come up in conversation in a bar in DC, but there it was. (They have been everywhere these last two weeks. Reminders. Absolutely perfect reminders of infinite possibilities.)

It was her birthday and she is a friend of a friend. She's the one going there.

She's a lovely person and said I reminded her of a relative. That was a compliment indeed.

"Are both of you parents from the United States?" she asked.

I assured her that they are.

This was after I played supercute parking attendant and learned that certain cars are just exquisite for a reason, and there's a reason why my father taught me how to drive a manual transmission.

It was mostly so that I could be that girl who could drive better than her first boyfriend. That boy watched helpless as I opened up my little sports car-lite into fifth on 495. He couldn't do that. He didn't know how to get out of first gear.

However, my father also taught me for moments like this one, one needs a beautiful, clear, open night like tonight.


Dexter Colt said...

Don't the finest boots come from Italy? I mean, I hear they have a reputation and all. My hiking boots come from Italy. They do rock considerably.

Washington Cube said...

Hatchard's in London. Or Foyle's. Or Heywood Hill. I bought a two volume set of a Hieroglyphic Encylopedia at Hatchard's.

My first car was a used MG with a crap transmission that had to be rebuilt three times, but it was black with gray leather interior and wood panelling and had an ivory choke. I learned to drive using manual transmission and took my driving test with it. I am infamous for taking quickly to mechanical things. Never had training wheels. Learned to ride a two wheeler immediately: my father pushed and let go and off I went. Same with cars. I got my learner's permit. My father took me into D.C. rush hour traffic THEN the Beltway. Three days later I had my license.

ma said...

DC, Nope. Not Italy!

CUBE! You're back? I've missed you!