i realized only a while ago that my car doesn’t have a name. oh sure, sometimes it’s carrito, but that’s not really a name (or even a word now that i think about it).
it’s not that i don’t love my car — i totally do — it’s just, i haven’t been able to come up with anything. i’m not sure what it is, you know? meaning, i haven’t quite settled on the car’s gender. most cars, as with boats, are female…usually…but with my car i’m not sure. i have more of an animal sense about it than plain boy or girl. is that weird?
with the monte carlo, it was always just: the monte. like a boat or barge or large hulking thing. and it was definitely a she, and definitely a righteous ol’ bitch. i loved it so much.
with the camry, i’m not sure. it’s a dream to drive, though slightly wounded from a few years of misuse at the hands of my carelessinsane mother.
the camry is sleek and dark, it’s smooth and beautiful. i really love that car. i can’t even fully indulge in different car fantasies because even the thought of being without my car at any point in the future causes my heart to just clench. i catch my breath in fear. oh sure, i still want my vintage mustang, and maybe a replacement monte carlo some day in the future. and i still have my wishes for a wrangler to bouncily venture off road in, but…those all must be in addition to my precious camry that nothing must ever happen to.
i must always have it.
it is my beloved.
that’s a shitty name for a car, though. so you see, i’m still working on it. but when i look at the camry it means so much more to me than just a mode of transportation. it’s far greater than the sum of it’s four wheels and six cylinders. that car is a tie to a different time and a different place to me, it’s a daily reminder of someone i love more than anything in the world. and it’s mine.
yeah…i’m still working on it.
