Today I pick up a car that was in one shop and now must go to another. It’s an — ahem! — older vehicle, a tad finicky, and has lately begun swaying like a covered wagon on the Oregon Trail. Faulty shock absorbers are the culprit. 

This has me thinking about shock absorbers in general, and how nice it would be to have them for the daily irritants of life, some sort of invisible bubble wrap that would protect us from missed trains and long waits at the doctor’s office. 

I know they exist — they’re called prayer and meditation and the active practice of gratitude. But sometimes I’d like an easier, more self-indulgent solution.