Their appointments, meetings and dates must needs be rescheduled or postponed.

A great many would grab their cellphones, carrier pigeons and call out for their personal Pheidippides to get word out that dire fate, cruel kismet and a damned unlucky break had stunted their will and broken their spirit. Some would scratch their heads and pop their hoods to stare uncomprehending at the machinery hidden beneath. A few would begin to walk sullenly to their destinations. But soon most of the drivers would bang their heads on dashboards, their fists on steering wheels and pound their palms on guiltless upholstery. A few awkward inches would reluctantly come the way of a lucky few who remembered their high school shop class and driver's ed. Smiling their rictus grins at their neighbors and highway fellows they would sweat and swear at every moment of delay and specifics. 'Dammit! I know how to drive this thing,' they would scowl at themselves inwardly. A nation would stall in its driveways, a world would halt in its ruts and roadways with panicked, ignorant, overwhelmed drivers. Who could drive a car to his desired destination if he had to elucidate every pump of a piston, every gurgle of fluid and every turn of a cam shaft.

'By indentifying with our desires and taking them too seriously, we not only increase our susceptibility to disappointment, we actually create a climate inhospitable to the free and easy fulfillment of those desires.' - Alobar at the Caves of the Bandaloop, Jitterbug Perfume, Tom Robbins, p.

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