sueeeus

I live near a high school. In the morning it is dark. The color of the sky blends with the color of the pavement. There are five lanes which separate the school from the sidewalk on the other side of the street. The speed limit on this arterial is 40 mph. I don’t recall seeing the 20 mph reduced speed school zone signs that are posted near the elementary schools. If I happen to drive along this street in the morning before school starts, I observe teenagers sauntering into the traffic, crossing the street. It never fails. They just walk out into traffic, without bothering to continue to the corner where there is a crosswalk and a traffic signal. It is so terribly hard to see these people, dressed in blue jeans that blend with the color of the sky and the color of the pavement. They don’t even look. They step out into traffic so nonchalantly. Defying society. Daring society. They are invincible, are teenagers. I used to be one. I remember.

I hope and pray that they survive this phase of clouded judgement and gracefully outgrow the arrogance that accompanies this time of youth.

I’ve never named a car. There will be no embelishments hanging from my rear view mirror either. No bumper stickers. Well, I do have a Baby on Board sign now. But that’s because I have a baby on board. Not that the sign will cause drivers to be any more considerate.

My dad always named his cars Betsy. After the queen. Of course. One brother named his first car Gwendolyn. I’m not sure if it was supposed to be a witchy name for a wicked car. But Gwendolyn it was. Another brother had a car that he named The Antichrist. Because nothing could kill it. It had seen many a collision and mishap. It just kept on going. And going. And going. The only thing that stopped it was that big car smasher thing that they have at the wrecking yard. It was a 60s or 70s Maverick. His roommates’s car was called Creeping Death. Maybe it’s more of a male thing, this naming of cars. Maybe it’s an emotional attachment thing.

My cars have been moderately nicknamed, though. The Truck. The Subie. The Benz. The Car. But that’s as far as it goes.

Topic du jour: Your Car

Cars. Is it true that cars are a reflection of one’s personality Aspects, at least. I imagine. I didn’t even drive my first car. It was an ancient Datsun with a manual transmission and I was a chicken $#!t. I paid $200 for it, and my boyfried drove it. That was in 1986, fresh out of college. He went back to school and I traded the Datsun for a new Ford Ranger. I was the cat’s meow at that point. It was red with an automatic transmission. Then I met up with a hoodlum crook in the guise of a friend who talked me into buying a classic Mercedes. 350SLC. The European version. Silver. Sleek. It was beeeeeeyoootiful, and very flashy, but it was being consumed by rust, and what did a naive girl like me know about things like that People thought I was RICH! I drove it to my 10-year high school reunion. Oooh, how successful I looked. Ha, if only they knew. I lost a LOT of money on that car. Relatively speaking. I drove it for 8 years, then liquidated everything I could in order to come up with downpayment for some property. At which time I acquired my beloved Subaru. I paid $350 for it, and drove it for many years as I struggled to pay for my real estate investment. Priorities. That car was a sight! It was a tiny hatchback, white with big round rust blotches all over it, and it was covered in green algae when I got it. I took a scrub brush to it, literally. I mastered the manual transmission with that car, and learned to drive in ice and snow. That trusty car never let me down. It had over 225,000 miles on it when we parted ways. I let my ex-fiance have it after the breakup, and I treated myself to a ‘me’ car. A safe and conservative sedan. Volvo 850GLT. Charcoal grey. I got it used, and it had all the bells and whistles. It was divine. It served me well. I drove it for 6 years, until, not too long ago, my sister had a friend in need and asked if I’d sell it to him. So I did. I didn’t have new car plans in my short term budget. I was on a vague wait two more years plan. But what the heck!!

This is the new me. I am a mom. A minivan mom. I’d never have imagined that a car could bring such delight, but I am delighted through and through. I have heated seats! Power doors! Lots of them! With a press of a button the rear hatch opens. Another press and it closes. Same with the sliding side doors. Both of them!! Deeeeeeeluxe!!! Oh. I almost forgot. It’s a Toyota Sienna XLE. 2006. Slate grey.
And how pretty is that My instrument cluster is like a jewel. All these pretty blues. It’s just so ooooh. So pretty. I am thrilled.
And the interior I’d have preferred a darker grey, but it only came in light grey. That burly woody stuff is okay. Sort of tacky, but sort of not. Sort of pretty, in a faux plasticy way. I can play MP3 files! I burned a CD with over 150 MP3 songs and loaded it in and away it goes. I can go several hundred miles on one CD without repeating any songs. Woohoo! Woo. Hoo.

Yes. I am really loving this car.

Much as I find the sight of falling snow, especially huge fluffy snowflakes, a beautiful sight to behold, I also find myself filled with dread. My chest constricts, my breathing becomes shallow, and I am filled with anxiety.There are so many steep hills where I live, and maneuvering in freezing conditions is difficult, to say the least. I must be off to collect my boy, before the temperature drops further, making the journey even more treacherous. Driving on ice terrifies me.