Tuesday, November 24, 2009

A Day of Mourning!

Do you get really attached to your cars, or are they just a means to get around?  I remember very clearly the day I got my car.  It was April 17, 1997.  I had been shopping for at least two years for just the right car.  I tried out a Dodge Stratus, a Chrysler Cirrus, a Mercury Mystique, and window shopped many others.  I ended up test driving an Oldsmobile Cutlass, and almost got one but I didn't like the color of the only one they had.  I told the sales lady it was a fine car, but it was silver and I don't like silver cars. She couldn't understand that I would reject it because of the color.  I looked around the lot again and found a Cutlass Supreme SL - in Medium Beige Metallic.  When I drove it, there was no question that this was the car for me.  Now the car I was driving at the time was a Cutlass Ciera GT that I bought used at 3 years old.  Absolutely the greatest car on the planet at the time, but it was getting older, and  even though there was nothing wrong at the time, I didn't want to wait until it was critical to find something else .  So now I was getting a new car, the first since 1979.  We keep our cars a long time in my family.  

Since I was so emotionally attached to my Ciera, I decided this new car would be different.  It would be "just a car", and when the 7-year warranty expired, I would replace it.  In reality, though, that was enough time to fall in love so to speak.  I now have the 2nd greatest car on the planet.

Back to the day I actually got the car.  I remember calling Daddy to give him the news, and ask if he wanted to be here when they delivered my new car.  Boy was he surprised!  He knew I'd been looking, but was caught off guard by this apparent sudden purchase.  Well, sudden isn't exactly the word to describe this process, but he wasn't expecting it "so soon".  Of course, he came over, with his checkbook.  I was Daddy's girl, and he always insisted on helping buy my cars.  When they delivered it to my house and they drove my old one away, I hid in the bathroom in tears.  Wimpy, I know, but I loved that car!  

Now I stand at the crossroads between another car I love and the challenge of finding one to take its place.  It is a day of mourning for me.  Last night my beloved car of 12 years gave up the ghost...pause while I blubber some more, and swear that it'll be different next time, and a car will be just a car. 

Edited to add a visual:

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