I went out on a date and the wonderful gentleman gave me a tour of my new Rockford neighborhood. It was an internet-type set up date and it started with me walking out of my beautiful apartment building (that I love) and greeting my date at his car, with me with my phone in hand. I'm greeting him and explaining to him that since I have no car, and since I'm getting into a car with a complete stranger, he'll have to forward his vital statistics to my girlfriend on the phone just in case he turns out to be a mother-raper, father-stabber.He's aware that I have just arrived in Rockford, that I have no car and plan to not get a car, that I have this plan of if the world is gonna start living green, when is it gonna' start with me if not now?
The if not now is especially poignant because my car, my car, my special car, was totaled a couple months ago, when someone ran a red light and totaled my car. (They had no insurance, fyi.) I loved my car. It was a 1999 BMW Z3 Coupe, bought brand new, when times were better for me financially. It just so happened that it had become a classic because it was darling (small, but darling) and BMW only manufactured eleven of this particular car - in the color white - for the United States.I seldom drove the little car. It had about 40,000 miles on it when it got killed. For Southern California, which is where I was for most of the car's life, 40,000 miles for a nine year old car is absurd.
So, back to the date and the car and the tour. He's a lifetime Rockford resident, he knows everything it seems about the town (which is wonderful for me, like a tutor at my disposal). He is concerned about my plan (to try to
survive in Rockford without a car) but cheerfully gives me history, walk-about and drive-about tour of shops and restaurants and much encouragement. He's relieved to find out I have a bicycle (her name is Caroline), a red Schwinn.I must not have scared him too much, however. We've set up another date for Friday night.
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