Double-clutch

There’s a definite rhythm in the chaos.

If I switch my car off, I have to jumpstart it to life. I can deal with that. It’s during events like this that my faith in mankind is rebuilt – whenever I’m drowning, there’s always a hand that reaches out to grab me. I lead a charmed life.

After work, I stop by the garage to pick up something. I plan the whole event; I’ll drive up to the shop entrance, leave my car idling, and run in quickly, trusting that my readily-consumable car will be where I left it when I return. I drive up to the garage, pull up the handbrake, and suddenly one of the garage attendants runs up to me and knocks on my window:

“Don’t switch your car off. I’ll run in to go get what you want.”

I stare at the guy in disbelief. How did he know? Incredulously, I hand him my twenty bucks and my order. He runs inside, does my shopping for me, and returns with the correct change. My car is purring like a kitten. I’m trying to fathom the moment. We exchange goods, and I ask him how he managed to read my mind.

“Oh.. we just know. You know how it works here. We know.”

Indeed. It seems that they do.