2002-06-06 - 11:59 a.m.
I can�t figure out my relationship with my car. I love it. I see it in the parking lot and I am instantly wriggly giggly happy inside. I think it�s the best car on the lot and I feel intellectually superior about it. But our relationship is odd. I don�t baby it. It�s usually in need of a washing. The interior is dusty right now, and there�s assorted detritus in the back seat. Fast food wrappers, empty water bottles, junk mail. I�ve spilt countless latt�s inside, and the coin holder, while full, has lint attached to it. The antenna is kind of messed up because I was listening to the radio in the car wash one night. And I should probably have the tires balanced and rotated. With all that, it�s not plain to the world that I love my car. Its responsiveness on the freeway is incredible. I can weave through traffic, the turbo charger giving me the power I need, the anti slip traction system giving me tight turns and the steering responds not only to myself, but also to the road. We are a team, enjoying the driving experience together. It�s what Volkswagen used to preach. Now they are all arty and entertaining. It�s more about the quirky driver than the car. Not so with Saabs. It�s about the car. As an extension of the self rather than the definition. I think with BMW and Mercedes, the car comes to define the person rather than the other way around. It has the quirkiest little bleep when you arm/disarm the theft deterrent system. And the headlights are always on. Plus, my car has a shameful secret. It was made in Canada. Don�t tell him I told you. He�s been making up for it ever since. Like those extra macho guys who are 4�8� and only date women with D cups. Weetabix put it best, in my mind, though she was talking about something completely different than the place of manufacture for my Auto Suisse, �it�s that one bit of imperfection that, if it didn�t exist, would cause [My Car] to ascend up to heaven with the angels�
I honestly feel a little silly, placing my transportation on such a pedestal. But I, like most Californians spend a lot of time behind that wheel. Plus it helps me keep up the shallow fa�ade that I need to get through my day.
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