They say that the lord giveth and the lord taketh away. Well, back in 2003, the lords at a kind dealership in New Castle, IN giveth me (after the ink dried on that sheet where I said I'd pay several thousands of dollars) a bright and shiny new royal blue Dodge Neon complete with charcoal grey interior and a sweet-ass spoiler on the back to slow me down when I drove too fast. She had 84 miles on her when I bought her and I instantly fell in love with her. She might not have been the coolest ride in town and I was reminded by several dates that I had throughout the years that I owned her that only very, very fat girls drove Neons, but I didn't care. She and I were a team. She was there for me when the painkillers wore off after my boob job and I was coherent enough to drive, she drove me through my tears as I cried about the countless assholes that I dated in my single years and she took me to Steak 'n Shake on my first date with my husband. From there, she didn't complain when said husband and I asked her to take us to Georgia, where we lived for nearly two years and never grumbled when she had to carry us back to Indiana and then forth to Atlanta several times over the course of those two years. We took good care of her and she ran like a dream...until late last summer when I was driving downtown and she started to cough and decided she couldn't drive another mile, but she was still running. Her spirit was still alive, but the life in her was waning. I pulled over and delivered the news to my husband, who by the way loathed her very existence, that Blue Car was dying. We had her towed away from that dark parking lot that I managed to pull her into and later found out that her heart had failed (the transmission crapped out). We immediately called Dr. Car, my dad, who stepped in and performed emergency bi-pass surgery on her and she was up and running once again. What a trooper that ole gal was. She lasted another nine months and finally left this cruel, cruel world a couple of weeks ago. She left me, as I sat in her driver's seat, driving down the road...just like old times. Again, we had her towed to a transmission shop in hopes that we could afford a heart transplant, but alas we couldn't afford to save her, so we sold her dead body to the shop owner for a few hundred dollars and left to grieve in our own ways-my husband gleefully cheering on the inside and me, looking sullen and withdrawn. She kicked the bucked with 140,000 miles on her. That's my kinda girl...
We foolishly thought we might be able to swing another vehicle on our combined salaries, but since I only make a few hundred bucks a month at best, it was just that-a foolish thought. So, after a couple of days trying to figure out what the hell to do (we definitely need more than one car because Husband travels a lot and needs reliable transportation to the airport), we remembered that my father-in-law had an old van that still ran taking up space in his driveway. So, we called groveling, and ended up buying the van for $175 from my in-laws. This is the part where the proverbial lord giveth...
I never thought I could love a car as much as I loved Blue Car, but I'm like a giddy teenager in lust. If you ever get the opportunity to meet Sexy Van (as I now lovingly refer to him), you'll understand. Mind you, personality will always trump looks for me and if Sexy Van has anything but personality, I don't know what the hell it is. Sexy Van is a 1989 Ford Aerostar mini-van. Tan like the sexiest pair of chinos you've ever laid eyes on and replete with taupe, maroon and grey racing stripes down the side so it looks like you're going really fast, even when there is no hope of that ever happening. He's a MANual with the biggest stick-shift I've ever seen, sultry brown cloth interior and loose seatbelts. He smells like a cross between a mechanic's shop and old people and I fucking love him. He and I embarked on our first adventure together when I took him to Lebanon, IN for a play rehearsal. He was such a good, reliable boy and only misbehaved when I let go of his clutch in the Starbucks drive-thru. He doesn't like when I do that. Also, I learned that he screeches if I tried to put him in reverse and press on the gas without letting go of his clutch. He can't help it-he's an old cantankerous bastard. He also gets jealous easily. I swear I saw him snarl his grill when a shimmery new Caravan parked next to him, but he quickly calmed down when I pet his hood and told him not to pay any attention to those new-fangled soccer-mom sissy vans because he is the ORIGINAL. And that is exactly what he is and why I believe that I have such strong feelings toward him...he is original. He has sexy bumper stickers and a sexy sticky steering wheel but he's all VAN!
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