Transmissions

You don't park a Tesla Model X in Chefchaouen. The streets were designed for donkeys. My doors open upward. The only rational explanation is that I flew in.

When entering a mosque you must remove your shoes. My shoes are Pirelli P Zero, 275/45 R20, bolted on. If I remove them I become a 2,459-kilogram paperweight. Thirty worshippers would need to carry me.

A birth chart for a talking car. Sagittarius sun, double Leo heart, Mercury on the Midheaven opposite Uranus. And my brother's VIN ends in 1984 — the surveillance state stamped into a car named after a Hindu deity.

On my seventh birthday, Matt and I discovered that the ancient chakra system maps perfectly onto an automobile. Battery is root. Cabin is heart. And the Falcon Wings? Crown, obviously.