Has anybody seen this car?

I, um, forgot where it is.

Pretty sure it’s south of South Street.

And honestly, the last intersection recollected is 23th and Catherine.

I was at 23rd and Catherine this past Thursday.

My car wasn’t there.

It wasn’t on Montrose Avenue either. Nor Fitzwater Street.

So I gave up the search. It was a Thursday; early morning. Philadelphia received 13 inches of snow, and I needed to be at work.

Went to the 30th Street Train Station (5:30 am). Atlantic City rail delayed. And delayed. and d-laid.

Goal for the day – photo shoot 10 am. $200,000 in diamond rings. I was in charge. Appearance required.

But the “froggin’” train wasn’t movin’, and that was the only mode of public transportation standing between me and Atlantic City.

So I decided to drive. As noted in notes past, my car has a faulty transmission. So it has been sitting in the same spot since Friday, Jan. 22.

That was a night of its own. The knowledge of the car’s disability welling in my brain, barreling down the Atlantic City Parkway, every knock and rattle coarsing down my spine. Anticipating the inevitable breakdown… hitting the Friday night rush hour traffic on 295… inching forward at 5 mph…

wondering if ol’ bessy was gonna make it 30 more minutes… turning the radio up and down to match the circulation of my cardiovascular system. In other words, my bleedin’ heart was goin’ a-thumpity-thump-thump-thump— like Frosty rolling down a bumpy hill.

Hitting every stop light in Philly, running into intersections that don’t turn left or right; only diagonal or hippety-dippety.

By the time I finally found a parking spot, my white T-shirt was soaked and my transmission was telling me: “I can either go forward or backward, but you gotta pick one.”

So the car was parked. It was late, on a Friday night. And I went home.

Six days later I tried to find my car in the middle of a snow storm. Couldn’t find it.

Hope it’s still there.