The Little Yellow Bug

Could she make coffee? Didn't she used to make coffee? Her fingers lightly traced the top of the carafe as she stared out the window that wasn't there, lost in reverie.

"I had a little yellow Volkswagon Beetle with a sunroof. We called them "bugs." I called mine Screaming Yellow Zonker. Anyway, I was living in a small town and there was this nice looking boy who used to work at the filling station. I used to make any excuse to stop and talk with him, but still not look like I was a tramp or anything like that. He was a nice boy, kind, and an excellent dancer. One day I stopped for gas I didn't really need and he said he would check the battery and the water for me. I didn't know that the little car didn't use water or that the battery was actually under the back seat. After a bit he came back around squatted by my door and we talked for awhile. I started the car and went puttering off. Much later that evening, I picked up some friends and we drove to the Dairy Queen to hang out and there he was. He sauntered over to the car, he never just walked he sauntered. He had such a puzzled look on his face. I was already out of the car sort of sitting on the hood.

'Hey, girl (he always called me "girl" in that soft Texas drawl that sent shivers through me), how's that bug of yours runnin'?'

I laughed because it was such an odd question, 'Just fine, cowboy, what's it to ya?'

He looked bewildered now, 'Really? No problem at all?'

'Not that I can tell. Why?'

His laughter roared through the night. He couldn't stop. 'Only you, only you!

'Only me what?' It was like a bad comedy routine, but I laughed because he was such a sight.

'Because I reordered your plugs, it should have stalled on you. You got a car that doesn't know it's not supposed to be runnin!'

"That's me."

She heard the whispering behind her and almost felt the air from the frustrated sigh that always followed what he called "episodes."

"Yes, dear, that was from your past. A full memory, you're making great progress."

She put the carafe down and turned to face him.

"It's a metaphor, you twit. I'm the car. I'm not wired correctly but I'm still running. Doctors!"

She started to walk away, "I'd rather be crazy than clueless."