Monday, September 08, 2008

Goodbye, My Dear Old Friend

"Nobody with a good car needs to be justified." Flannery O'Connor, (Wise Blood)

It looks like Milk Man needs a new vehicle, or else he won't be bringing home the milk, or any food for that matter, which I'm sure will lead to a toddler riot, or cannibalism, if you count Hell Hound as part of the angry mob. He's driving my old red "sports" car an hour to and from work everyday.

Okay, it's not really a sports car, but I fought for the "pimped" rims and sunroof in the dealership when I leased it as a college student. That was the first business deal I ever made. I have to admit I was intimidated by the car salesman, a big mush of testosterone and greasy hair gel, until I spotted his business cards in a plastic bin on his desk. He had crossed out the name of a colleague with white out, and replaced it with his own. Realizing he was new, and needed the sale as much as I needed the car, I suddenly had confidence. I had my eyes set on the shiny red one on the showroom floor. I tired him out haggling about my lease price, sending him on dozens of trips into his manager's office. Out of breath and ready to end the day, he settled. I got my shiny red "pimped out" Chevy Cavalier, and I was happy. The salesman was slightly annoyed that a college student ran him in circles.

Leaving the dealership in my new car, the man knocked on my window, visibly frustrated by our transaction. "What are you going to school to be, a lawyer?" I told him I was studying to be a high school English teacher. "Oh, wow, I feel sorry for those kids," he said, returning a botched business card he intended to give to me back to his pocket. That may have been the first honest statement he had made all day.

I still love my little red "sports" car, whom I named "Pepper" in honor of the band, "Red Hot Chili Peppers." Although I have now been sentenced to ten years of driving a mini-van, I still hold on to Pepper, a last remnant from my not exactly wild or crazy youth. So my husband drives her now. Although she has been a loyal little car, Pepper's beginning to fall apart, and I feel guilty because I'm convinced she's aware her days are numbered. Pepper knows Milk Man is eyeing other vehicles on the road, considering them as possible replacements. She's a smart car, not one to be messed with. She bitterly fixes it so her gas gage occasionally is on the fritz. If Milk Man does not watch the odometer closely she runs out of gas, and he ends up crossing the Long Island Expressway with a container. In bad weather, my little Chevy "cries" via the broken sunroof, dripping water all over Milk Man's suit and tie. Yesterday the rear view mirror popped off and hit him in the head while he was driving. Bad Pepper!

My husband is not amused. I say, "She did that to you out of anger....After all, we live in such a disposable society. People have no respect for the elderly." My husband sighs. "Loren, it's a car, not funny little Aunt Mildred who keeps a corny joke written on a sixty year old piece of scrap paper hidden in her bra strap. "

My husband doesn't understand my fondness for this car. She and I have a history together. My first argument with Milk Man happened inside this car; my first speeding ticket was tactfully (and charmingly) avoided in this car; my husband and I drove to our honeymoon in this car.

Milk Man doesn't love Pepper anymore, and he's being cold and heartless. "It's just a car, and I need a new one, " my husband says, and I have to give in, because I need milk.

Milk Man, if you're at work reading this post right now, I reluctantly comply. I will let go of my little red sports car, just don't tell her I agreed... Despite my acquiescence, I had to do something to celebrate her today....

Let's talk for a moment about your peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I'm sure you've noticed that it is extra red today. That's for a commemorative reason. I decided to pay tribute to Pepper's sporty color by putting beets in your lunch. I just know that would make my dear old car smile. I LOVE YOU PEPPER! :)


Elizabeth Kathryn Gerold-Miller said...

I empathize! In my college-days, I never thought I would be a mini-van-driving mom. It's so uncool! And yet I was overjoyed when I got mine!

Milk Man said...

The level of deception has reached levels not seen since the tension between the U.S and the U.S.S.R in the height of the Cold War. A man a.k.a. "Milk Man" has a God given right to hot sauce, taquitios, and all other saturated fats without being subjected to "vegan terror." Where is Al "shady" Sharpton when there is a real violation of civil and human rights!

Loren Christie said...

I know, Mini Vans are SO NOT COOL!

Milk Man,
Relax, I'm actually trying to prolong your life. Why? I don't know, maybe I need someone to "fix" and/or laugh at.Isn't that what married life is all about?

Dear Internet Traveler,

Welcome to my writer's blog, started about six years ago for fun. Over time, the writing I have posted has ranged from personal reflection, to Long Island history research, to tall tales for my own amusement, to feature articles for local newspapers. As you can see from topics listed here, I travel in many mental directions in regard to interests. Click on the tabs and labels to explore my strange mind which senses that you may be having a criss-cross day. If so, perhaps this blog will distract you. However, please note that if you tell me my blog is beautiful just to get me to advertise rhinoplasty surgery and cheap drugs from Canada in your comment, I will ask the gods to give you a tail that cannot be concealed.


Loren Christie

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