Rental Car

The rental is a small white SUV made by Nissan. It's in stall 38 and it smells like a pine tree in a lab coat. It's called a "Rogue."

I get in and look for where the key goes. There's nowhere for the key to go because there is no key, its all fob. There's a button. I push the button. The dashboard lights up and plays a little tune, and a message tells me to press the brake. I press the brake and push the button and the wipers come on.

I wasn't near the wipers.

It takes me four minutes to leave stall 38. In that time I open the sunroof, turn on the heated seat, change the radio to a station playing a pan flute, and move the driver's seat so far forward my knees touch the dash. The car beeps at me the whole time. Different beeps. I think it's trying to tell me something and I think it's personal.

On the road it's fine, mostly. The signal is where the signal should be. The wipers come on twice more for their own reasons. Something in the steering wheel nudges me whenever I get close to a painted line, like a dance partner who'd rather lead.

Later that day I pull into a gas station to fill it before the return, and I stop.

Which side.

I have no idea which side the gas cap is on. I lean out the window and look back along the car. I check the mirror. I pick the left pump. I get out.

It's on the right.

Back in the driver's seat, turning the thing around, I see it on the fuel gauge: a tiny arrow beside the pump icon, pointing right. It's been there since stall 38.