Showered already and don’t plan on working out again so it seemed like a good idea to leave the stink in my trunk.”“Alright. Let’s go,” I said, shutting the door and walking to my car.She followed right behind me. “Where we going,” she asked, sliding into the passenger seat.“You wanted to learn how to drive a stick, right?”“Are you serious?”“Why not? Not many people get to learn on a Ferrari, a distinction you’ll always have.”She seemed pleased. I drove us to a grocery store parking lot. Their lease had expired and the lot was empty. Perfect. It was big enough to make the shift from first to second and back again. I parked and shut the engine off, then explained how a gearbox and clutch worked. She quickly picked up on all of it, including the tach. I showed her the mechanics and she seemed to get a handle on that too.We switched seats and she adjusted hers back, something that mysteriously stabbed at my ego. With the engine still off, I had her demonstrate the technique until she. I could see tubes and wires stuck everywhere on me and in me, running to and from pumps and those darn beeping monitors. I tried to move. Oooh, that smarted. Whatever hit me must have been a whole lot bigger than I was. I decided I was just fine where I was at. Somebody was trying to talk to me but they finally just faded away. It was much more peaceful again. I needed that. I knew I was hurting, I just didn’t know how badly, and snoozing was a good way of not worrying about it for the time being. The next thing I recall was waking up with a god-awful hunger. My stomach was telling me that my throat must have been cut. I still didn’t feel much like moving but at least I didn’t feel like sleeping anymore just then. So I waited. About an hour later, a nurse came in and I tried to ask about getting some food but all that came out of me was a croak. The nurse looked over and saw my eyes were open. The next thing I knew, she was out the door like she’d been shot out of a cannon. Less.
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