Skreeeeek. Clunk. The door shuts. Ahhhh, it feels good to be behind the wheel of my belovedVolkswagen. As I turn the key and gingerly feather the accelerator, I start afriendly conversation with my car, Elmer.

"Good morning, Elmer!"I say with genuine enthusiasm.

"Raaa, raaa, burble, burble,burble," Elmer replies, as his 32-year-old engine turns over and starts toidle.

"You weren't too cold last night, were you?" I say,cringing at the thought of forgetting to coverhim.

"Burble."

"It won't happen again," Ipromise.

Later, with our morning conversation over steamed latte and motoroil concluded, I shift Elmer into reverse and carefully ease him out of thedriveway. I choose a forward gear and we are on our way. We have places to go,people to see, children to bless and glass ceilings to shatter.

A quick,stale whiff of gasoline attacks my nose through the heat vents for an instant. Assoon as it arrives it is gone. Still, I let out a quick moan of protest,"Whew!"

I wrap my hands around the bus-sized steering wheel, andturn up the radio a little. "Big Dog and Kim in the Morning" drowns outthe incessant whining of my three-speed transmission, and the oxygen-starved,wheezing and coughing of the air-cooled engine.

"Ooh! Ooh! I think Iknow this one!" I shout, as the daily trivia question is read by gigglingKim. "It's pizza sauce!" I shout as I turn Elmer onto Folks Road andinto the school parking lot. "It's pizza sauce, pizza sauce is theanswer!"

As I turn Elmer's lights off, something I rarely remember todo, I hear the correct answer read over the air.

"Pepperoni?Pepperoni is the answer?" I ask.

"Burble, cough, burble,burble," Elmer responds in that "I told you so"voice.

"Who asked you?" I demand. "The real answer is pizzasauce, I'm right about this, believe me."

"Wheeze, burble,burble," Elmer protests.

"Let's not fight, okay. I don't wantanother episode," I reply, recalling last week when a disagreement over aradio trivia question resulted in repetitive stalling on my way to work.

Twisting the ignition again, Elmer falls silent. I reassure him, "I'll beback in a few hours to take you home. Just try to have a good time out here withall the other cars, okay?"

"Clunk. Skreek," Elmer repliesas the old hinges of the driver's-side door slide uneasily along the guidepin.

The palm of my right hand falls on the front fender, giving agrateful pat to my precious Elmer. My hand is doused with the thick morning dewlingering on the sheet metal.

I set off for the door to my school. I'mhalfway there when, suddenly, a gripping rush of paranoia floods through my body.Did I forget to set my parking brake? Is my helpless Beetle rolling into trafficthis very minute? I spin, and catch my breath. Phew, still right where I lefthim. I nervously jog back to my parking spot and peer into the dew-saturatedwindow.

Parking brake: on. That's jumpy ol' me, of course. I continuetoward school feeling confident that my beloved car will be just fine. It's goingto be a good day.