Dear Imprudence

I arrived on the east coast and Hertz did not seem to have the mid-sized car I had reserved.

How about an SUV?

[An upgrade, in some minds.]

No, that's too big for me.

It's a small one.

[I would take a downgrade, but not at the same price.]

No.

With considerable frowning and lots of typing, the agent came up with a set of keys. In this round of the rental car lottery, I won ... a shiny black car, with tinted rear windows. A big bad ... Chevrolet HHR? The antithesis of aerodynamic.

I turned the key in the ignition and wondered ... is the engine running? Is this a hybrid or something? Tentatively, I pressed the accelerator. All four cylinders were indeed firing - the car moved forward.

The view through the rear view mirror was reminiscent of a porthole. I have some experience with limited rear visibility (haha). But this vehicle has no rear camera.

I'm not used to sitting Way Up High Off The Ground. Or driving a vehicle whose accelerator feels like ... a sponge.

I visited one of my (very) old haunts for dinner. It looked like the next generation was in charge now, but little else had changed. The fortune in my cookie:

Prudence keeps life safe, but does not often make it happy.

How did they know?