Transvestia

From among the pretty things which Gary has bought me, I selected a summery yellow skirt and a white blouse with roll-up sleeves. Smoothing my nylons, I slipped into a comfortable pair of white patent flats. Putting a yellow sweater around my shoulders, I skipped out the door and slid behind the wheel of Gary's Mustang.

Starting the car, I drove towards the edge of town and into the fragrant dusk of the country. With the top down on Gary's car, and my hair whispering about my face in the evening breeze, I casually traveled through the rural area to the West. Above, the stars twinkled brightly and I was alone unto myself.

About that time, I first noticed what I presumed to be a satellite drifting through the heavens. Rising from the horizon, it passed through Ursa Minor enroute toward the zenith. It was a very bright bluish-green and must belong, I thought, to those Russians.

When the car stopped, I forgot all about 'those Russians'. Well, the car didn't actually stop. The motor stopped, the lights quit, the controls refused to operate; but the car itself – it didn't stop.

Well, Dear Diary, you can just imagine how I felt! Here I was alone, unescorted, on a quiet country road in a car I couldn't steer or stop and still making absolutely marvelous time down a road I could hardly see. I doubt if even Gary could have solved this dilemma, but a poor girl like myself was absolutely mystified.

All of a sudden the car swerved off the road, swung behind some bushes, and stopped. Now no proper lady will let herself be taken behind a clump of bushes on a lonely country road by just anybody especially an old borrowed car. Therefore, I did what any sane young girl would do; I threw open the door and tried to run.

It was at this time that I noticed another slightly unusual occurrence. I couldn't move! I don't mean that my legs wouldn't support me, or that my arms were stiff or anything old-fashioned like that. You know very well that I'm no

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