You never appreciate what you have until it’s gone.

In my car, the seats are covered with velvety black seat covers decorated with green tree frogs. Their large red eyes compliment their red toes.

I climb in and pump the clutch. (It has a leak.) Slowly pressure builds until I can shift. I turn the key and the engine purrs to life. I search for a CD of good driving music. You know, the kind with energy and a beat to keep you awake at the wheel for the duration of your drive.

As I shift into reverse I look in the rearview mirror at the white gravel drive shortening as I back out.

I shift into first. My thoughts turn to my day ahead. I silently pray over the coming events, my trip, and my loved ones.

I shift into second, third, fourth. I begin to sing. I reach for a mint. The cool refreshing cylinder makes my tongue chill and opens my sinuses.

I smell something other than mint. Hot metal, smoke. The coolant light blinks on. Acrid smoke escapes.

This car is NOT my place anymore. I hate it.

And I miss it.