July 1, 2021Car TroubleMarilyn McCormick

He said my differential was gritty and grimy and

if I didn’t have it checked the whole thing could

fall apart or stop working. I didn’t know I had

one—a differential. Or where it was, or what it

looked like. I’m good at cleaning the things I can

see and the things I know about. It’s rained for two

days and I’ve waited for the clouds to leave, the

ones that are sitting on top of the hills, but today,

I said to hell with it and walked in the rain. The desert

doesn’t soak up the rain or hang onto it long. It

rushes over the hard pack, heading downhill to

set up flash floods on Route 140. I don’t seem to

care much about things these days. I feel disarmed,

hands hanging empty at my side, a little, you know,

indifferential.