Serious Like

I feel a little silly about this so I thought I should share it with you. I become emotionally attached to cars. Not just any car, but a car that I have driven for years. Even if the vehicle was a pain in the ass and required too much maintenance and got lousy gas mileage. There was only one car that was mine that I didn't shed a tear over when I traded it in. That would be the 1986 Ford Aerostar minivan that I drove for five years. Yes, we got it cheap. Yes, we put many, many miles on it. Yes, they gave us a ridiculous amount of trade-in value when we bought my current minivan to replace it. The thing is, it was a horrible car plagued constantly with needing small, medium, and occasionally large repairs. Mostly small ones that weren't very expensive. But it wears you down when something is always going wrong. Funny smells and quirky behaviors. Odd noises and sudden, subtle variations in performance. We came to believe the vehicle was demonically possessed and began to refer to it as the AntiChrist. I did not miss it when it was gone. All of the other cars that have belonged to me I have become attached to. Even to the point where it was impossible for me to drive through the back of the dealers lot and take a final look at my cast-off car without shedding a tear or two. I do realize that this is completely irrational. But it is something that I accept about my twisted brain. Today I have fallen in serious like with a car that is not mine. I almost feel like I'm cheating on my Mercury Villager. My friend Jeany stopped by with her new Subaru Outback and invited me to take it for a little spin. So I did. And like I said, I am in serious like. I don't need all the fancy features she has on her Outback, but I'm definitely smitten with it and in two weeks may very well purchase one. I am absolutely excited about the idea of a new Outback parked in my garage. And my older son is equally ecstatic over inheriting my current minivan. Which means I'm not really abandoning it, I'll have visitation privileges. Which will assuage some of the guilt and sadness I will undoubtedly experience when I ditch my ten-year long relationship with the Villager. I swear there were boyfriends who were easier to part with. Much easier.