I don’t remember eating all of those Mexican jumping beans, but there they are. Bouncing around in my stomach.
Or maybe I swallowed some unpopped popcorn and my internal temperature is just where it needs to be to make the colonels explode.
Although, it could be a small game of plinko or pinball. After all, I really only feel this sensation while lying down. Maybe it’s gravity causing the little marbles to rattle around behind my belly button.
I know sometimes when you’re browning rice, it pops up. Perhaps I ate some raw rice that’s now cooking in my gut.
Yeah, any of those could explain this fun little sensation that I’ve been feeling for days. And when the new Arcade Fire song “Reflektor” plays.
Dear Baby Türbo,
I know you’re in my stomach, which is weird because we sort of haven’t met yet. But I just want to let you know how much I love you.
This may not make sense to you until you’re driving age and your Dad and I buy you a car. Or maybe you’ll understand when you learn to ride your first bike.
What I’m getting at, my little Türb, is that I already love you so much that I’m selling my Ford Mustang.
Let me tell you a little bit about my love for Mustangs.
I’ve owned two in my life. I’ve only owned three cars at the time of writing this (which is far less than most people I know, oddly enough).
My current Mustang, which looks like it won’t be mine for much longer, was a college graduation present from your grandpa. He and I sold my white ’97 Mustang and I gave him that money to pay for part of my beautiful blue ’06 Mustang.
Grandpa went and ordered the thing and the only say I had (since it was a gift and all, you never ever demand anything if you’re getting it as a present) was the color and the transmission. Papa John did the rest.
I named the Mustang Eleanor Rigby after the Beatles song and a movie called “Gone in 60 Seconds.” Maybe someday I’ll make you watch the movie. If you’re anything like me, you’re going to love cars. But Eleanor Rigby was the first brand new vehicle I’d ever driven, let alone owned. She was perfect. She was Windveil Blue, had a five-speed manual transmission (because awesome people know how to drive stick, my love), and had dark grey cloth interior.
She had this fun addition called the Pony Package, which included the rear spoiler, fancy wheels, the Shaker 500 sound system, and a dashboard with customizable color options. I didn’t change the color too often, but it was nice to have.
I got to pull the plastic off of the seats and dashboard, she was so new. And I was terrified to drive her. She was so amazing and so perfect and I wasn’t sure I deserved her.
Kind of how I feel about you. You’re already such a marvel to me, and you’re only about the size of my fist. And I just know you’re going to be the most perfect thing I’ll ever lay eyes on.
Which is why I have no problem saying goodbye to Eleanor Rigby. Because as cool as she is, as fun as she is to drive, and as much as I love her, I already love you more.
And even though you’re going to be so teensy, you won’t fit in her backseat.
I’m going to get something we can both enjoy. And maybe when you’re old enough, you can have a Mustang. Who knows?
I thought that one day when I sold Eleanor that it would be some terrible sacrifice, but it’s surprisingly easy. Because you’re already worth so much to me already.
I love you, my little Türbo.