I remember the long car rides of my youth riding unseatbelted in the back of my dad’s Lincoln Continental. He always thought seat belts were “dangerous” that they’d cut you in half in a car accident (we are talking about waist belts). He’d had the car lovingly restored, painted a darkish silver, high-polish chrome handles on the suicide doors and reupholstered in white leather.
Though my father knew little about fixing cars, it was his love for them that instilled a similar passion in me. I could name any car on the road—especially the sports cars. And I got fairly adept at looking after them myself before they got so complicated.
Later, when I started racing, driving to the track, I’d get that same feeling, the impatient “Are we there yet?” I’d anxiously grip and ungrip the wheel anticipating the fear and fun to come.
A few years back I sold my racecar to a collector and doubled down on knitting and kayaking. Both are safer and considerably cheaper habits!
I’m ¾ of the way through another project and sadly I’m gripped with the desire to put it down or get it over with. And that feels like the wrong way to look at the situation. I know I’ll feel a huge sense of accomplishment when it’s done, but right now, I’m in the doldrums of a 1×1 rib to the finish line.
I wish I were a faster knitter!!