the mechanic

the mechanic
opens the door as you
sit in the waiting room
reading a five year old
people magazine.
he calls out your name,
and says in a deep
voice, will you come with me.
you grab your keys,
your wallet, your phone
and your Dixie cup
of coffee and follow him
out to the garage.
we have a problem,
he says. it's not
just the wipers making
that noise, we need
to overhaul the entire
engine. seems you've
been driving way to slow.
do you stop for red
lights, stop signs?
slow down on exit ramps?
he shakes his
head. do you do less
than ninety on the belt
way? you sheepishly nod
yes. I obey
the laws of the road,
well, i'm sorry, he
says, but it's going
to cost you. these cars
are made for speed.
your engine is choking
on itself with carbon
buildup. I see
no wear on your tires.
you are going to have to
step it up. it's
a roman chariot race out
there, join in. push it.
your car wants you to.
do you want to wait for it,
or can I have someone
drive you home?