Writers and wannabe writers of ARFCOM, this is your thread to clear out the drek in your literary bowels.  When the thread is over, we'll flush it!

See this post  for background on this writing experiment.

Participants will write something inspired by a prompt and post the text by the deadline. Your edit timestamp will tell the tale. If this is useful we'll modify the rules or procedures and keep on doing it. If you don't like how this one is run/structured/written/formatted keep it to yourself and start your own thread. If it's better, we'll all end up there

How It Works:
- Post in the thread with place holder text. "text here" for instance.
- Write something inspired by the prompt and update the placeholder text with your prose.
- Update your post before the deadline.

Rules:
- No off-topic posts please.
- If you don't like something, keep it to yourself.
- If you do like something, send the author a private message or keep it to yourself..
- If you make placeholder post and miss the deadline, you'll have to shoulder the undying burden of our unspoken dismay at your failure.
- Your entry can be as long or as short as you want, please limit yourself to one post.

Prompt: Describe how you get to work. I don't care what your "work" is, how do you get there?

Deadline: Sunday 10 Mar 2024 12:00am CDT.

Go!

I look at the clock and ruefully down the rest of the coffee in my mug. I've procrastinated enough, it's time to get on the road. My old truck turns over on the second try and for the millionth time I vow to take it into the shop to get that figured out. I've jacked with it for hours and probably only made it worse. Traffic is light as the sun rises and I tune the radio to an 80s station without a morning show. The music reminds me of different times when I had different goals. Now I just want lower blood pressure, a hug and a kiss and few kind words. Traffic is stop and go, people jockeying for position in a race that isn't a race. Riding the bumper of the guy in front of you no matter the speed, contrary to everything they taught in drivers ed. Just to keep that asshole next to you from sliding in front of you, pushing you back and him forward. The song changes, the traffic doesn't. The sun is higher in the sky now and my exit is next up. The truck stutters at the light, I've got to get it looked at. I pull into a spot and turn off the ignition, the song on the radio is "Rock the Casbah" and I remember the girl I made out with in 10th grade while this song played. She's gone, that time is gone. I listen and reminisce until the song is over and a commercial for an injury attorney comes on. Opening the door of the truck quenches the radio to silence. I've parked as far away in the lot as possible and I walk the distance with the sun in my face. I've put it off as long as possible, and yet here I am.

...

Shaking the cobwebs, I shuffle over to the workbench in the adjacent room.  With a twist of a switch the lamp shines brightly upon the vise held stock.  The Athol vise is older than its user and was found in a stall at Friendship, Indiana.  It was carried over 1,000 miles home and mounted on the workbench and has become the favourite vise.  Besides the ratchet handle, it was taller, bringing the stock higher and reducing the neck strain.  Something often overlooked but important if there was a long work day.  

Opening the file draw, a rasp was selected and with several deft strrokes, wood began falling on the floor.  Occasionally the smith picked up a straight edge and held it against the stock.  This ensured that the high sports were identified for removal.  Sometimes the smith lowered his head and eyed the stock from the foreend.  By adjusting the light at varying angles and heights, he could spot flaws and marked them with a #2 pencil.