Car Pool Log: 2007 05-10

Green station wagon, perhaps a Subaru. Driver was reading an issue of the New Yorker when I got into the backseat. She put it down as Second Passenger arrived. Second Passenger had a large luggage-style bag.

“Did you want to put that in the back,” Driver asked.

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Second Passenger replied. “I’m used to cramming it in with me.”

Tan baby-seat with small black dots in the back. In the booster was a worn retail bag with the initials MOW, Mothers… Kids books on the floor, a blue blanket with pockets over the passenger seat, a canvas shoulder bag. KQED on the radio. More talk about Iraq (is there anything else going on in the world?) and Attorney General Alberto Gonzalez.

Car Pool Log: 2007 05-09

Army green Saab, tan leather interiors with wood front paneling. The car smelt like flowers either from Driver’s perfume or otherwise. In the backseat there was a bag; woven with fiber and colorful plastics, possibly. There was also an orange plastic bag which contained a newspaper.

Driver wore Chanel sunglasses. The interior of the car was exceptionally clean with minor black scuff marks on the back of the front seat. Getting into the car there was KFOG on the radio which she later changed to KQED. Driver adjusted the volume with a console on her steering wheel.

KQED: Dick Cheney made a surprise visit to Iraq to assist in Shiite and Suni relations.

Car Pool Log: 2007 05-07

I was about to get into the backseat but there wasn’t one. The vehicle was a utility truck. I got in front and said good morning. In the body of the truck were shelves of manuals, machinery and tools. All of which, including Driver, specialized in elevator repair.

Driver made conversation. He asked me where I worked and I told him. I said, I take it you repair elevators. He laughed. He told me that his company has been short staffed for a while, that by Thursday he gets pretty exhausted. The job comes with perks though. He services Bill Graham Civic and was able to see Muse for free. “They told me that they would get me backstage and force me to drink alcohol.”

He followed the money into his trade. He didn’t realize (and neither did I) that you needed five years of schooling in order to become certified to fix elevators. “Had I known better I would’ve become a doctor,” he said. “You might as well, right?”

Just last week he came back from New Orleans. He went to JazzFest and partied along Bourbon Street. He said it was an amazing city, that the people were the nicest he’d ever come across. It took him a while to acclimate to being back. There had been so much devastation and the government didn’t do right by them.