Over the weeks, my anger grew at the thought that such an inconvenience—a turn signal that wouldn’t stop—was somehow considered an improvement.
Mr. Toad
Sitting long hours in the classroom arouses in me the restlessness that was the bane, or perhaps the blessing of my childhood: when will I be let out? Eventually the discussion catches my attention, but first there is the longing for the open road that I first encountered, in fiction, in Kenneth Grahame’s delicious The Wind in the Willows.