Car Pool Log: 2006 08-11

Silver-blue, Toyota Prius. Driver was hunched up in his seat as if perched, hands on the steering wheel. Second Passenger I was guessing to have been Driver’s brother, possible twin brother. There were similarities in stature, in voice tone as they spoke together. Black leather bag in the backseat, KQED on the radio. A woman spoke of losing her husband in 1936 to leukemia and how, at the age of 80, wrote a book using the love letters they wrote between each other. Her name was Nora Percival and her husband was Herman Gund. I got a little choked up, looking out the window, listening to this woman speak to her granddaughter about what had happened.

“You should probably take the 45.”

“Does that stop in front of the terminal?”

“Well, you’ll need to walk a bit.”

Second Passenger got out of the car quickly and dodged to avoid a low hanging branch from on tree planted on Fremont Street.