Miata and me...

I'm home, itching to get back to work, which may happen tomorrow (Monday, July 18).

And so is the Miata.


For those interested in an update on me, no real news will come until Tuesday, when I see the neurologist and have a follow-up CAT scan. Though, still, no neurological symptoms (that we can detect) except for a bit of swelling on the right side of my head. That's the side they worked on, twice.


And my golf game a week ago went well. I was as good (or as bad) as I was before all this tinkering in the cranium. I even cut the front lawn (though I cheated with a new-bought self-propelled lawn mower from Sears).


More important: no pain and, thankfully, no headaches -- though, still, until I get off the anti-seizure meds, no driving, no spicy food and no beer.


My plea to wean myself off the meds will be a big part of Tuesday's meeting with the neurologist because I crave all three.


As for the Miata, which we'd planned to use on the trip back from California mostly along fabled Route 66, it is home after a return 1,900-mile journey nestled in a covered car carrier. It arrived on Tuesday, along with five other vehicles. They included some royalty: a Dodge Viper and a '70s-era yellow Corvette. (The other three cars, and our Miata, were of the proletariat.)


A confession: The car carrier couldn't drop off the car in front of the house, as expected. It needed to unload or reposition five cars before getting to our Miata. So it headed to a Wal-Mart a mile or so away to do the unloading. Once safely birthed, I sat in the contoured leather seat, feeling comfortably at home. Not wanting to leave her again, I drove, slowly (and against medical advice), the mile or so back, safely, into the comforting embrace of our garage.


Early Saturday afternoon, I took Joyce out -- she at the wheel -- to introduce her to the mystery and magic of the Miata's six-speed manual transmission. At a local high school parking lot, next door to the Wal-Mart, I talked her through the routine of going from first to second, then third, fourth, fifth and sixth while synchronizing those moves with a left foot pushing the clutch to the floor and letting it out precisely at the proper moment.


She did well enough that we headed, later that afternoon, her at the helm, to a Miata club meeting in Kansas City. By our return early that evening, Joyce was a pro at negotiating the gear box


I must admit that I was envious the entire trip there and back. For someone who truly hates to drive, wishing that Lawrence had subways like New York City so I wouldn't have to own a car, I love driving the Miata, as I loved driving the '79 MGB all those years. It's simply fun!


So good thoughts for Tuesday, please. For driving, for spicy food and, of course, a good beer or two.


Oh, and for good health.