- Paperback: 280 pages
- Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform (September 27, 2010)
- Language: English
- ISBN-10: 145384080X
- ISBN-13: 978-1453840801
- Product Dimensions: 6 x 0.7 x 9 inches
- Shipping Weight: 1 pounds
- Average Customer Review: 3 customer reviews
- Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #8,098,744 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
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1Oct1993 Paperback – September 27, 2010
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Will be reading everything else this narrative drug dealer puts out. Hopelessly hooked.
Houses cost money. Cars cost money. Windows cost money.
Sometimes I'll read a book or watch a movie or look at a cereal box for too long and I feel myself becoming a character.
Was I becoming my job?
I drove my Ferrari around the city. When I would tell people about the car, I could tell they thought it was stereotypical or cheesy, but as soon as they saw it that changed. A show of respect washed over their face. Though I often wondered where this respect was aimed. The car itself? The artistry behind the machine? The status it implied? More and more, I felt it certainly wasn't me they were respecting.
I spent as much time driving as I could. When i wasn't driving I would stand in my house and look out my windows. One window then the next. When I wasn't doing that I was working.
I began to allow people's interest and respect for the car to reflect on me. Why not? I owned it. I worked for it. 'Nice Ferrari,' they would say. 'Thanks,' I would say as if they were complimenting my tie, my smile, my eyes, my actions.
That's around when the car's metal exterior first started to become human skin.
At first, of course, I was horrified. I called the place I had purchased it from. They only spoke Italian. I started to wonder if I should take the bus to work. I didn't want to frighten people. Then I realized, the more the car began to resemble flesh, the more people liked it.
My coworkers would stop me in the hallway and say 'Is that your baby out there? Beautiful.' People at the grocery store would say 'She's gorgeous.'
I spent more and more time in the car. When I wasn't in the car I would look out my windows at the car. One window then the next. When I wasn't doing that I was working.
One day I was sitting in the driver's seat about to pull out of a 7-11 parking lot when I noticed the small breaths coming from the dash. At first I thought the sound was words and was scared but soon I realized it was just light breathing. It felt good on my knuckles, comfortable.
I don't want to go to work anymore. I stand in the parking lot at my office and lay my face on the hood of the car and feel it's warmth, and I know how much I'll miss it during the next eight hours. But cars don't pay for themselves. Houses don't pay for themselves. Windows don't pay for themselves.