Back in the saddle

Or, rather, the driver's seat. A miscommunication between me and my mechanic at Hilltop (on 15th Avenue East, a block from where I used to live) led me to believe that after $840 of repairs, my beloved '95 Subaru Impreza, Gracie, was still unsafe to drive. As it turns out, she isn't, so I'm going to pick her up Monday evening and learn a few things about checking fluids while I'm at the service station. I still plan to bus to work three times a week to save gas money and reduce wear and tear on the car, but mainly I'm glad that if someone's having a party in SoDo, I don't need to rely on buses, friends, and taxis to get me there and back. To say nothing of future open houses at Bastyr. Gracie, you're like the earliest Christmas present ever. I'm glad you're coming back to me, because I just didn't know how to quit you.