Miracles Do Happen

For a couple of years or maybe even longer, the left front speaker of my car (whose name is Darth Honda, just in case you were wondering) has been completely out of service. I can't remember when exactly it stopped working. I just know that one day Nick remarked on it and then I realized that the speaker hadn't been working for some time. I compensate by fading 100% to the front speakers, blasting at top volume and deafening any fool who dares to ride in my passenger seat. Not too long after that, a CD got stuck in the slot. I'm not sure which CD it is, but I have a sinking suspicion that it is Richie Havens' Live at the Cellar Door. That's been sorely missed for a while now. Every once in a while, I push random buttons and curse in an effort to extract the cd. On days when I feel brave or exceptionally irritated, I poke stuff in the slot. The poking usually occurs when NPR is having a pledge drive, forcing me to listen to commercial radio. My sanity seems to start leaking out of my ears after two Metabolife ads. I start casting about for a pen, windshield scraper, paper clip, or anything remotely skinny and flatish to poke into the CD slot while crying, "Richie! Come back to me Richie! I need to hear you sing Here Comes the Sun before I lose all faith in humanity and consign myself to living in a post-Lorax hopeless world!" On really bad days, I start singing Here Comes the Sun myself. That is always disheartening as I do not have the dulcet, smokey tones of my dear Mr. Havens. Then yesterday, Darth Honda took a hard fast left onto the highway entrance ramp. And while I was craning my neck to gauge the speed of an oncoming Navigator (insert standard rant here regarding large vehicles), the speaker kicked on. My jaw and foot both dropped in shock. Darth responded with all the might of his four cylinders and slid in front of the behemoth while I continued to stare slack-jawed over my shoulder, lost in the unexpected sound of Nina Totenberg's voice blaring from the dashboard at foghorn volume. I am holding out hope for a second miracle. If the speaker can come alive, so can the cd player. Stranger things have happened. UPDATE: The cd is out! The cd is out! I found Nick's dart set in my car. Using two darts as chopsticks, I managed to retrieve the offending disk. It was not Richie Havens, but Lou Rawls. I managed (barely) to supress the urge to stick the disc back in and give it a whirl. But tonight, I will find a cd that I don't care to keep (perhaps The Wiggles) and try it out. WOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!