I know it's a distributor cap because when I see distributor caps, I am immediately taken back to my teen years when I was delivering newspapers in my Baja bug Volkswagen. It was a snowy morning and I zipped up to the top of a hill into someone's driveway.
There was Guy's car. I feel safe in mentioning his name here, because I doubt he'll ever see this and we're all almost 50 now and I think the danger has passed. What danger? you wonder.
It wasn't Guy's house and it was a school morning. But Guy's car was there, kind of in my way. I misjudged the amount of space I had to turn around because of where his car was parked and I backed into the right rear fender.
I punched a perfect, square hole in the fender, bent over my square pipe bumper my dad had rigged up in the Baja style and punched a hole in my distributor cap.
I was freaked out. I knocked on the door of Jimmy's house and there was Guy and Jimmy. I was pretty naive about what my town classmates were up to as I lived out in the country and wasn't privy to their shenanigans, but Guy was really upset.
But he wasn't upset I punched a square into this fender, he was upset because he didn't want his dad, who was a cop, to find out he had been at Jimmy's that morning. He begged me not to turn it in to the insurance company (snort, like we had insurance in those days).
Looking back on it, they were probably drinking or smoking pot. But I was too upset to wonder what they were doing. Guy drove me home and dropped me off. I went up to my parents' bedroom and threw myself on my dad's bed in hysterical tears.
My dad drove truck all night to pick up those papers I was delivering and he had just gotten to sleep. He shot up in bed thinking I must've drove my car off a cliff and was returning in some ghost-like apparition. I was, admittedly, a little dramatic.
I don't even remember how the route got finished, but he got out of bed and we went and fetched my car and he stayed up and fixed it, because I needed it to deliver papers the next day. My dad didn't get a lot of sleep in those days.
It's not just a distributor cap, it's a memory in my dishwasher.
My husband came by and marveled over how clean and shiny the brass fitting on it had gotten. He put it up to my face so I could see. Then he said, "Now I have to do the other side. Can I run it through again?"