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My baby! My baby!

Tonight Earl and I took the Acura to the dealership to have the rest of the accessories installed and to have the windshield replaced. It’ll be nice to finally be rid of that chip I got six miles from the dealership the night I was driving the car home on her maiden voyage. The fine folks at Crest Acura gave us a loaner car for the evening. We had the opportunity to drive home my RSX’s older brother, a 2003 Acura RSX. He has a few more miles under his tires, he isn’t quite a shiny but he drives very well. He’ll make someone very happy someday.

But I miss my baby desperately.

Earl constantly reminds me that he doesn’t get emotionally attached to cars. He can trade them in without a hint of remorse and he can walk by his cars without so much as a glance. I’m just the opposite. I fall in love with my cars. When we’re on the road together, we become one. Laughing together as we race past others on the Thruway, leaving the others in the dust. I get all emotional when I decide to trade them, no matter their track record. I even got a little misty when we traded in the ’01 Impala, even though that car cost us a mint to keep it running and it was only four years old. Whenever I’m thinking of buying a new car, I get all superstitious and whisper to others, “I’m looking at a new car”. I wouldn’t dream of raising my voice above a barely audible whisper, lest the car in the driveway hear my scheming and fight back by busting a tie rod or something.

I’m looking forward to getting the Acura back tomorrow night, new windshield in place and surrounding trucks with flying rocks be damned. It’s very difficult for a parent to be separated from their baby for the first time.

1 Comment

  1. I own a Volvo. I totally get it. My car and I are attached at the wheel. And once you go Volvo, you never go back. Hail Sweden. Great cholocate, great cars.

    I bet the guys are cute there, too.

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