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If I had a garage….and, if I made a mistake and drove my car into it, left the engine running and closed the garage door, I wouldn’t last very long.

That’s a disturbing truth.

The air wouldn’t be fit to breathe in short order.

What my car produces in return for carrying me from place to place is not compatible with life.

The fire that moves me down the road makes poison.

I drive every day for my job.

I drive a lot of miles.

I think that I figured out a while back that I could have gone around the world over 10 times with the mileage I’d driven over my postal career.

I could have gone somewhere if I’d been pointed in the right direction and didn’t stop for every mailbox.

I could have landed someplace interesting.

Everyone drives.

There are a million cars on the road.

That’s probably an understatement.

A “million”?!

More than that, probably.

If we all drove into the “big garage”….cruised around under the big blue sky…where would the poison all these cars spit out go?

I couldn’t survive in a garage with the engine of my car running.

This is stupid and simple.

It’s no revelation to say that the exhaust would kill me.

How big do I think that sky above me is?

Is there room in the world to disperse all the poison I produce?

How much room do I need for all my dirty stuff?

Will I survive….me?



About Peter Rorvig

I'm a non-practicing artist, a mailman, a husband, a father...not listed in order of importance. I believe that things can always get better....and that things are usually better than we think.

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