backforthmenu Broken Shifter. It’s February and the rain came in sheets this morning, then just stopped. I was on my lunch break depositing a $250 bonus check—the timing of which was perfect, I’d just be able to cover my plastic bill and avoid another late fee. The machine sucked up my money and I walked back to the little red Subaru, got in, started her up and discovered the shifter was a dislocated arm between the seats. No gears to be had and nothing I could do about it. How could I get mad? The thing was so limp and dead I almost laughed. Then I remembered why I was parked there... the incredible disappearing deposit. I felt depression press up against my throat. The bastards at Visa would win again. Stepping out of the car I noticed slug trails criss-crossing the sidewalk. I slammed the small door and looked up at massive clouds. They had parted to reveal electric blue chunks of sky. The new, hard sunlight made me squint. I was hungry and my head thumped. The car would have to wait... I needed whatever sustenance this strip mall had to offer. 4/3/99