My car has a name. It’s not something I’ve always done. Seemed silly. But then, I’ve never been emotionally attached to a car before…before now.
I didn’t realize how attached I was to this car until several problems all kicked in at once recently and I faced the possibility that the cost of repairing it might outweigh just buckling down and walking to work for awhile while I saved for another car. That’s when all of the memories that went with this car flashed through my mind. It was like losing a close friend. This car has traveled from Colorado to Virginia four times and from Baltimore, Maryland to San Diego, California, and a repeat trip from Richmond, Virginia to San Diego, California as well as side trips. It’s seen mountains and it’s seen plains. It’s been to the Grand Canyon and Mount Rushmore. My car has seen New York City, Jersey City, Reno, Las Vegas, Kansas City, Oklahoma City, and so many small towns I couldn’t remember them if I wanted to. I’ve shed tears in this car and I’ve slept in it. Hell, I’ve even had a gun pulled on me in this car.
Luckily there was at least a temporary solution to my problem with the car, which I will verify is still working tomorrow. So, Patronatron rests comfortably in it’s usual spot waiting to conquer the miles of highway laid out across this country.