Love and Loss on four wheels Falling in love at first sight is risky. You know nothing of the past history, of what underlies that enchanting façade. But the emotion and the magnetism are irresistible. Falling in love with a car at first sight—not looking under the hood, not kicking the tires—is not just risky but crazy. For many years I had a red stick shift Corolla that I loved dearly and kept way past its prime until the inevitable repairs accumulated beyond sustainability. I went to a local Toyota dealer where many of the repairs had been done and spotted the car of my dreams, except that I had never dreamed of any car or fixed on a model or color or anything else. But there in front of my eyes was a splendid turquoise car, and the letters on it identified it as a Prius, a hybrid, and if I had given any thought at all to my next car it was to select a hybrid. Someone else might say my new love was green. I believe the Toyota promoters said something artful like “se
Book author Emita Brady Hill's thoughts, memories, and discussions of her books: Northern Harvest, Bronx Faces and Voices, and her travels to the Texas Mexico border to help and cook for the migrant asylum seekers.