... I pulled the tarp I'd covered Honey with, off her and sighed heavily with disgust at myself for the condition I'd left her in. When I'd decided to fly back to California, and move in for my trial run with Gaier, I'd left in such a hurry that I didn't bother to clean Honey after her 2,400-mile trip out there. She was a mess and my heart ached for her. When I pushed her starter button she creaked and squeaked with the metal on metal sound of two months of not being started.
She
reminded me of me, when I get up in the morning. Creek… groan… ache… pop… snap… twinge… It took about 10 full seconds of grinding
away, before she finally made a sputter.
Then quickly another gasping grasp at ignition, and then about 15 or 20 seconds of a faltering
rough idle before she obediently settled into her beautiful soft purring. Never has there been a more faithful filly.
I
walked her out front, gave her a quick sponge bath, and got her packed for our
trip. It would be time better used to
get on the road, rather than spend the three hours it would take to thoroughly
clean her… just so she could get dirty again.
Poor Honey.
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