Frank and I went out to eat last night in Austin, and, when we came out of the restaurant, I said, "You know what? I bet it's cool enough to put the top down. Is that OK with you?" I figured it would be; Frank has to scrunch down a bit with the top up as he is over six feet tall. A bonus: he can smoke in the car when the top is down.
In the parking lot, I pulled two pairs of shoes, about a dozen CDs, a copy of "Le Morte D'Arthur" and one of "Game of Thrones," several scripts, programmes from the last two or three shows I've seen, a complete change of clothes, two bars of soap and a couple of coat hangers (the detritus of summer) from the back shelf and threw it all in the trunk. I had cleared that space out somewhat to accommodate Brendan's bags when I took him to the bus station on Friday. Frank was teasing me the whole time, but really...that's what happens when it's too hot to put the top down.
The sun was dropping by then, and the twilight breeze picked up. I left the AC on, and we hit the road. Frank lives somewhere out east of Pflugerville; there is no road that goes there as the crow flies. We wound up out on Dessau Road, and probably circled around the entire subdivision...far enough away from it that we never even saw it. After half an hour or more, we connected with 685 (the old road between Hutto and Pflugerville), and hence to Frank's destination.
There's something magical about the first "top down" drive of the season, whether it's Spring or Autumn. Stray scraps of paper blow out of the car, as well as dead leaves and the exhalations of the stuffy months.
I suppose the weather will ensure that I put the top back up by tomorrow or the next day, but, for now, the hint of coolth in the air is enough to make me happy.