Your cocktail sir,





2002-06-06 - 11:59 a.m.

I canít 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 itís the best car on the lot and I feel intellectually superior about it. But our relationship is odd. I donít baby it. Itís usually in need of a washing. The interior is dusty right now, and thereís assorted detritus in the back seat. Fast food wrappers, empty water bottles, junk mail. Iíve spilt countless lattťs 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, itís 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. Itís what Volkswagen used to preach. Now they are all arty and entertaining. Itís more about the quirky driver than the car. Not so with Saabs. Itís 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. Donít tell him I told you. Heís been making up for it ever since. Like those extra macho guys who are 4í8Ē 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, ďitís that one bit of imperfection that, if it didnít exist, would cause [My Car] to ascend up to heaven with the angelsĒ

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 faÁade that I need to get through my day.

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Zen and don't cry out loud - 2007-07-29

Zen and the stumbling rocks of fitness - 2007-07-19

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Zen and fasting - 2007-06-20

Zen and hiccups - 2007-06-18

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