Cars & Horses

I would rather own a horse.


'Nuff said.


Everything considered, I would rather own a horse.  With the unceasing anguish the automobile causes me in this current day and age, I would rather ride a horse as my transportation for one place to the other.  My great-grandfather raised horses for a living.  Perhaps, some of his astute abilities transferred down through the years to this lonely soul.  I certainly never inherited my dad, or my granddad's penchant for cars.  In their quest to reach an equal status to the complexity of the human body, they wallow in a complexity so inane... 


I would rather own a horse.


It's not that I have anything against my car.  I love my car - as much as one can 'love' an inanimate object.  I enjoy driving it.  I am thankful for how it moves me from one point to the next, opening vistas for me to explore with opportunities yet untapped.  The problem I find myself with is something called trust.  I trust people to honor their work, to comply with the unwritten code of integrity in their work, to seek a solution to every problem, an answer to every question.


Unfortunately, my life experiences have someone created me as an idealistic and extremely naive fool.  The goals I have to always exceed expectations, to never settle for second best, to never quit until the job is done - people don't believe in truth, justice, and the American way anymore.


Forgive me for my pessimism.  It never lasts, though it always seems to return.  It is the constant battle all carry on with the forces of good and bad in this life - and, for today, I am losing...


As I write this, I sit in the customer service lounge of a Chevrolet dealership in Smithfield North Carolina.  Yesterday was Independence Day.  No mechanic or dealership was open - though, it appeared to me, all other businesses were.  The day before Independence Day, I recorded the events of that day in total with its aggravation and disappointment.  Now I sit here wondering...


My car is my horse.  I am wandering across the country like a cowboy of the Old West days, searching for a family he doesn't know, hoping for a link to a place where he belongs.  I would like my car restored to health for me, and I would hope my faith in people can be met.  Does anyone believe in quality?  Is there any soul out there who believes in truth?  Can I claim to believe it myself,  if I succumb to the frustrations of the absence of any standards so easily and quickly myself?