Normally driving does not mystify me.

Hybrid cars are weird. Like when the thing shuts itself off after a minute of idle and then drifts forward as you hit that gas as though by magic. Our first Philly Car Share experience was not without its hitches. Amongst them: “Where is the power button for this automobile?” “Why doesn’t the gear shift stay where I put it?” and “Ok, for the first time in my life, I actually have wandered the parking lot because my car is *not* where I left it, though fortunately, it’s not my car.” Also, Philly has shorter yellow lights than Pittsburgh.

Some other city denizen took a member of Car Share’s fleet of identical red Priuses to the IKEA, but drove ours home. This is important because they all belong to specific “pods” at specific sites, so Milie and I milled about the loading dock with our many purchases and waited for the man to tell us it was ok to take the wrong red Prius to the Lukoil station near our house.

I am not yet sure that this is cheaper than taking cabs or less hassle than figuring out public transportation, but we did buy a lot of stuff that we couldn’t have gotten home any other way. Including four kitchen table chairs, a wrong sized black pillow sham, and a 29 cent cat food bowl so that when Milie feeds the stray that comes to our stoop and yowls, the uneaten remains do not attract ants.


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