Soon the dash was just a steering wheel which resembled a pumpkin hollowed in quarters or a pretzel or a lucky charm.
I gave the 2H a turn. Things turned dotty. An attempt to indicate distance beyond the wheel (the space to pedals or my feet) resulted in four sandwiches seen from above.
I decided what the hell I'll see if I can fix it by going back to the 4B and its original lines. Work was done on roundness, dots disguised as vinyl stitching.
Needless to say--what a useless piece of language that is!--the hands themselves did the best work, pretending to grip the wheel and turn it. Now the wheel was a celtic cross within the ring of a one-quart [sealer? ceiler? cieler?--help!] ring, which I accepted as a step in the right direction at least.
What else should be here but the wheel, I wondered in the end.
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