The engine needed coolant, but when we added coolant it would vaporize instantly. The engine was smoking because the cooling fans wouldn’t kick on. We hadn’t even added a mile to the odometer, and we had popped the hood four times and been side-swiped in a parking lot. Rowan offered to drive the Silver Bullet to the Upper Peninsula, and I accepted it would be one less thing for me to be nervous about.īut before we even left, I realized that I would probably be anxious about the car the entire trip. We have affectionately deemed it the Silver Bullet. Despite its homely appearance, it usually runs pretty well. The car needs fluids pretty often, but Rowan knows what he’s doing and maintains it. To keep it down, a bright yellow ratchet strap runs from the windshield to the undercarriage. The bumper hangs, and the hood doesn’t close.
A few months back, he was in an accident, and the front end has been mangled ever since. He drives a funny-looking 2009 Chrysler Town & Country that is dented and bruised from years of aggressive driving. Rowan carries an entirely different disposition. Vehicular problems quickly become existential problems. I don’t know much about them, and when something goes wrong, my lack of knowledge transforms into a panicky ineptitude.
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