The 2005 red Ford Focus that I scoot around in hasn’t died
yet; but it is only a matter of time. I realized this recently; and it gave me
more of a sentimental pang than I expected. To that end, I dedicate this post
to my little car.
Once upon a time, that red Ford Focus was just the car that cute boy drives. Then, one
day, I found myself in the passenger seat. We spent a lot of time in that car
while first getting to know one another. (CONVERSATIONALLY! You nasty-minded
people.)
(Okay, mostly.)
Once we had a small herd of bipeds to transport, it became
My Car. My poor husband started packing his burly frame into the tiny,
un-air-conditioned silver roller skate I used to drive. I can only assume that
when he emerges from it in the parking lot in the morning, people stop to see
if more clowns are going to get out.
[Insert clowny honking noise.]
Anyway, besides the usual things that happen to cars, this
poor thing has me to contend with. I bear this car no ill will; honestly, I’m
quite fond of it. It carries my spawn around on our adventures, and does a bang-up
job of it. But the fact is I’m kind of a mess. I’m a disorganized, distracted,
uncoordinated mess.
Several examples:
1. Let’s not forget that I didn’t get my driver’s license until
I was eighteen in a half, and didn’t learn how to drive a standard until a year
or so after that. [Thanks again, Harlan Dalzell, and sorry about your
transmission.] I finally mastered downshifting in my early thirties. It seemed
way easier to just put that thang in neutral and jam on the brakes. Don’t
judge.
2. I thought I was being clever by pre-boiling eggs as a quick on-the-go breakfast. I poked one into my face as I put my car into gear one morning, chewed it several times, and then sneezed violently, blowing chewed up boiled egg all over the steering wheel, dash, and windshield. One could argue that this damage was only cosmetic, or even that it only really damaged the dignity of the car. But it certainly didn’t help.
3. I have, as the delightful young gentleman who sold me my last set of tires stated, a Curbing Problem. Here is how the conversation progressed:
Tire Sales Person: You have…a Curbing Problem.
Me: Yes.
4. The 2005 Ford Focus has exactly zero Level Dashboard Space.
In spite of this, I persist in setting things on it. Recently, I put a cup of
precious, beautiful coffee on its silly, slanty surface. It promptly slid off,
and somehow all of the coffee poured (in slow motion, mind you) into the little
crevice betwixt the driver’s side window and the little rubber seal that runs
along the door. It just completely disappeared. Then I heard a very soothing
tinkling sound reminiscent of one of those rain sticks that one can find at
shops that sell dream catchers and tiny Buddha statues and tie-dye onesies for
your patchouli-scented baby. My hometown is riddled with these shops. Anyway,
rain sticks are dried branches filled with pebbles or rice or something that
makes awesome rain-ish sounds when you tilt them back and forth. So my car door
did that for about ten seconds, and then a ton of coffee gushed out of the
bottom onto the parking lot. That car doesn’t have power locks or windows or
anything; but that doesn’t seem like a particularly GOOD thing to do to a car.
Someday, I’ll have a newer car that actually accommodates the
size of my family. But I’ll always look back on the Red Ford Focus Days as
pleasant ones.
