And when they are not! It is the BRAKE LAMP light. NOT the BRAKE light. I am pretty good at knowing when brakes are bad just by how the vee-hickle responds when you apply the brake pedal. There was that time I was driving one of the Fiestas, also known as “Mama’s Little Gold Car, Daddy’s Little Blue Car, and The Orange Car.” Or was it the Jetta? It was something with a manual transmission, I know that. How do I know that? Because the brakes were making an absolutely horrible noise and the only way I made it home that day was by using the transmission to brake the vee-hickle. If that makes sense. And then there was the time I had the old red minivan *full* of girl scouts. In fact, don’t tell anybody but I don’t even think I had enough seat belts for each kid. It was starting to snow and the brakes were making an awful noise and it was not because they were wet. I couldn’t slow that car down with the transmission but I did make it home. The Resident Engineer’s opinion was, “they’re just wet.” That is, until the Resident Engineer took a little test drive. Next thing I knew, the van was in the shop. Whomp! But this is what the green honda’s dashboard looks like today. The brake lamp light is that rectangular one at the bottom of the little vee-hickle diagram on the lower right. I’m not going to mess around getting a clear picture. You’ll have to trust me that it says, “brake lamp.” I drove the green honda all over town this morning and I think the brakes are fine. Next to the dashboard is what the booooook says ’cause I actually looooooked in the booooook:

I don’t know which of the three brake lights is out because I’m not quite stretchy enough to keep my foot on the brake pedal while snaking my body outside and around to the back of the vee-hickle to look at the lights. The other red lights on the dashboard? Oh, don’t worry about those. They indicate that the vee-hickle is currently in park and that I’m not wearing a seatbelt. Which is okay because I’m sitting in my driveway not going anywhere. Finally, you can rest assured that this vee-hickle has never been droven anywhere near 140mph. I don’t think. Who knows what the beach urchins may have gotten up to. But in all truth, I doubt that this vee-hickle goes *quite* that fast. I think that’s just for show.

And now, I get to go get my ski jacket on again and walk over to Ann Arbor Muffler. Again. I better not forget my debit card because for the second time in two weeks, I get to pay Ivory somewhere around $500 $745.86 for the privilege of driving The Indefatigable from Ann Arbor Muffler home to its parking place on the street in front of The Landfill. I just *love* rusty old vee-hickles. Don’t you? 🙄

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