I drove the Saab up yet another gravel road and dislodged the muffler from the manifold. I could have cried. I was miles up the gravel. No other traffic. I really didn't like this game. eventually three people stopped and asked if they could help, but we were at a loss. I ended up tying a rope around the clamp and threading it through the back of the engine around some supports. I turned around. I made it several miles before I had to tighten the rope, due to scraping on road rocks and near paralyzing fear. When I got back to down, I called Dennis. And he said that's what he would have done and that aside from the noise the car would be fine. Oh, how I hate the engine's growl.
After complaining elegantly at my lost hike on a most beautiful day of October, I again went under the car. After unwrapping the rope and fetching some copper wire, I pushed with my shoe to align the pipe and wrapped wire snug enough for a three hour drive home. The engine growl calmed: an almost tamed engine.
Fixed by playfulness, I mused. Before departing I took a walk along the river and found a fire pit, from which I extracted fishing notions, making a set of false flies: playful happiness, soothing despair.
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