David Rhoden

I dreamed my car rolled into a river.

. Day .

I was in an imaginary place that corresponded somewhat with Chattanooga, near the Missionary Ridge tunnel. I was driving my first car, the 1970 Ford LTD. I was parked at the top of a steep hill, and somehow I shut the door in a way that made the car (a Detroit behemoth) start coasting down the hill. It ran less straight as it neared the bottom and, to my chagrin, it banged a few other parked cars before crossing a major road (like Brainerd Road) jumping the opposite curb and flipping into a deep creek.

I was afraid to look at the damage so I popped into a restaurant near where the car had gone in the water. As soon as I went in the staff recognized and greeted me. They were painting very cool two-color caricatures of regulars on a wall by the door. They asked me if I wanted to be on the wall. I realized these were my ex-wife Sara's friends but I said yes.

I wanted some food but they weren't open; they were recovering from a flood. I still hung out, because I was afraid cops or angry car owners were looking for me. Everybody who came in was there for free pastries and coffee, which I couldn't have, and they were all well-to-do white people with good jobs. They were all talking about how "green" the restaurant's renovations was and how good that was for the world. I left to go check on my car.

To my surprise, the car was still visible but it was completely underwater and mostly covered with gravel. No one was looking for me and soon no one would know it was my car. I decided to try living without a motor vehicle.