Here we are almost into the 60s and now my car gets grump about starting. What kind of thing is that? It started fine on those near-zero mornings and now it's parked at 58 and it complains. Some cars are never happy, I guess.
But I am. And so is everybody else, it seems. All the little old ladies are out for a drive; they just sort of drift along in great big Buicks and nobody knows which way they'll turn next, and nobody cares. I saw one woman strolling down the middle of the street using a ski pole for a walking stick, and a great big blissful grin, and everybody just stopped and waited for her to walk by, and nobody cared.
How can a person not be happy on the first warm day of Spring?
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