I love my car
I've mentioned my car before once or twice, but I don't know if I've adequately communicated my utter and complete love for it. But first, a little automotive history.
My first car was my father's old Datsun 210 wagon. It was blue. It had rust patches. If you left food in the car, mice got in and ate it. It had an "I love Spuds (McKenzie)" bumper sticker on it and if memory serves, my graduation tassel hanging from the rear-view mirror. The ashtray was always full. It was a truly awful vehicle. Its only redeeming feature was that it was a stick shift.
My next car was a Toyota Corolla LE. Very neat little four-door item, white, clean, in great shape, also a stick. This was my mother's old car. Great car. I cried when I sold it. I loved that car.
My next car was a Honda CRX. My parents footed half the bill on this one as a gift for some important occasion although truth be told I don't remember what that occasion was. It was my first NEW car and I did all of the negotiation on it. I was so intent on keeping the price low that I did not spring for floor mats, mud flaps or a passenger-side mirror. (I ended up having the mud flaps and the mirror installed aftermarket, at great expense and inconvenience. I bought the floor mats at Rickel.) My hands shook when I wrote the check for the deposit. It was a two-seater, also a stick, and I drove this car from my senior year of college all the way up until three years ago when I traded it in, and got $1,200 for it from the dealer. It had more than 120,000 miles on it. Another awesome car.
My next car was a Toyota Camry. I leased this car because I had the feeling that, after so many years of completely trouble-free performance, the odds were against me and something horrible was about to go wrong with the Honda (even though it in all likelihood would have continued to run for another 100,000 miles -- but I had to drive to Newark every day for work and getting stuck there was simply not an option.) In an apparent overcompensation for having no trunk and no backseat with the CRX, the camry was a four-door sedan with an enormous trunk. This thing, compared to every other car I'd ever driven, was approximately the size of an aircraft carrier. I leased that car for three years and never once did I parallel-park it.
Which brings me now to my current vehicle -- a Volkswagen Golf. I feel like Goldilocks because it's not too big, it's not too small, it's juuuuust right. I had just changed jobs and gone from driving over an hour each way on very busy highways to driving fifteen minutes each way on bucolic back roads. My car needs were simple -- I needed basic transportation and I didn't want to pay a lot for it. (I don't believe in spending a lot of money on a car.) I wanted a small car...much smaller than the Camry and small enough to fit into my garage. I wanted something that didn't scream, "Soccer Mom Inside." I wanted a sunroof. And most of all, I wanted heated seats. I got all of that in the Golf, plus an AWESOME "monsoon" stereo system. (It says "monsoon" on the little screen when you turn it on.) The dashboard lights and gauges are blue, which is ultra-cool. (I did not know this until a few days after I got the car when I turned the lights on and -- surprise! Blue lights! Who knew?) It has a sunroof, and a surprisingly large trunk. I wish I had gotten the Turbo, but considering that I only get above 40 miles an hour about once a month, it just wouldn't be worth it. This car reminds me of a teeny little Renault I drove on a vacation in France about a million years ago. Every night, I park it on a cushy carpet of AstroTurf in my garage (left there by previous owners, but still...) So basically I love my car.
Today -- wow, how unusual -- it snowed again. I left work and my poor little car was completely encased in a sheet of ice and blanketed by a thick layer of snow. As I was scraping it off, I actually said this to my car, "Don't worry, we'll get you home soon where it's nice and warm." I didn't even think this was strange. I cleaned it off, lovingly, then set off on what turned out to be a very treacherous journey. On my way home, I passed all kinds of cars -- mostly expensive ones -- stuck on the side of the road...a $40,000 BMW....an Infiniti G35....even a rather large SUV. I just cruised right by them, safe and snug and sound in my cheap little car with a nice warm tushie thanks to my heated seats.
I pulled into the garage (a few tense moments ensued here because the driveway is on an upward incline and it was real slippery) and shut the door, patting my little car on the dashboard, saying, "Ok little car, we're home now. Thanks for getting me here safely."
Later on, I went out to the garage to check on it. All the ice and snow was melted and it seemed nice and snug and cozy. I patted the hood and said, "See, little car, I told you we'd get you home where you'll be all nice and warm. Sleep tight."
Am I nuts. Sure. But if loving your car is wrong, dammit, then I don't want to be right!
8:47:00 PM 
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