this must be how Achilles must feel

I am told if the car door is left open too long, Achilles will jump in, ready to be taken for a ride.

The SO got a car yesterday. It's his first car. For years, since I had the car, then I did the driving, which wasn't a big deal because I don't mind driving and I got free parking in Berkeley at his apartment. In my family, *I* am the driver. Though my sister and father both drive, they seem to oft prefer that I drive, since I know San Francisco well enough and can get in and out of traffic, plus parallel park in the tightest places.

But, I must say, that now and then I do relish the times when I get to be the passenger. I like getting a chance to watch the scenery, rubberneck the accident on the other side, learn which national landmarks are at the next exit.

Of course, after a person buys a car, you have to go driving. The SO had ideas of taking Highway 1 down to Asilomar, but it was already 4pm and I don't think highway 1 at night would be as enjoyable. Instead we opt for Vallejo and Seafood City. I can't totally doze off while the SO is driving, cuz someone has to give the driving directions.

Besdies, I get to play with every secret compartment and button on the console. I do this on rentals. Open up every compartment, press all the buttons to see what turns on. Cigarette lighters are now more commonly known as AC car plugs and ashtrays are extra. Just about everything is powered. Considering my car was built when "digital" was something for your finger, I'm amazed at the "modern" technology.

We start to think about all the other places we'll be able to go (as if we couldn't or didn't go before): Vallejo's farmer's market, Costco, drives down highway 1, even a road trip to Vegas. We are a car country and have built the notion of "freedom" into our cars.

We stop into a Barong Formal store to give us some ideas for the wedding. Next door is Valerio's where we pick up pan de sal, and ensymada with cheese and ube. Even 20 minutes before closing, the store is packed. Next we meander through Seafood City which looks like a grocery store in the Philippines except that it's in Vallejo, where you can buy dozens of varieties of Creamsilk shampoo and get fish fried. They still have Manila Mangos for $7 a box. We put the groceries in the car, mostly so the SO can practice using the automatic door buttons. By that time the golden light of sunset was striking, so I took a few pictures of SO with the new car. We're Filipino afterall. (Though I have yet to take a picture next to a car that wasn't mine.)

After dinner at Chow King, we head back to Oakland. The SO asks why I'm so quiet. It's mostly because as the passenger, I don't have to think about anything, thus have nothing to say. It was a zen moment. I also enjoyed that I could be the "girl" for once.

Driving is often thought as a masculine thing, particularly amongst Filipinos, and one's manliness being measured by how he could stop the car without having the passengers feel the tug of the stop. Now, grant it, I don't think that driving is all for men, or that the men should always drive. But it is nice to be driven now and then, drop the sun shade and check your face in the vanity mirror while your studly boyfriend takes you home.