Dear Car,
You've no doubt heard the unkind things I have said to you. I have spoken ill of your gas mileage to any and all who will listen. I have made not of your unfortunate color and huge ass end. I have given you an unfortunate nickname - The Eggplant - and spoken loudly in your hearing of my greatest desire for the return of my previous car, The Rollerskate. I have no been good about getting you your required maintenance, and, although I know that you need new tires and brakes, I have ignored this fact.
I am sorry. So very sorry.
I learned this last week - during our 18 inches of wind-driven snow, during the roads of glare ice, during the Great Salt Shortage of 2008 - why you exist. You handle incredibly well in snow. You got me to work and home again every day, without incident. You handled every pothole, of which there were many, with grace and agility. I can truly say that without you, I would have been lost this last week.
I promise I will get you in for at least an oil change within the next 30 days, O Eggplant of Harmonious Driving.
And to the asshole in the Chevy Suburban, who decide that 30 mph in a 40 mph zone on glare ice and with 18 inches of snow just wasn't fast enough and decided to pass me on the right, hit a slushy patch and went into the ditch, all I can say is:
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And to the asshole in the Chevy Suburban, who decide that 30 mph in a 40 mph zone on glare ice and with 18 inches of snow just wasn't fast enough and decided to pass me on the right, hit a slushy patch and went into the ditch
I love it when Karma rears its beautiful head.
The rollerskate would have stayed in the driveway! Refusing to move!
That would be "Car, Ma!"
I love my little "Mouche Noir," a black Subaru Forester which climbs frozen waterfalls.
Bet you thought only Gurrrlies named their cars!
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