So much for the afterglow. . .

About 3 weeks ago, Sonny & I purchased a car. It's a 1994 Ford Taurus with over 100k miles on it, but it ran strong and effortlessly charmed me on the test drive. It was smooth on the road, responsive to tight turns and a nice cushy ride. Plus the interior was pretty gosh darn nice. Ok. Fairly nice. Aside from a dollop of mysterious white crust on the back seat and a small pencil eraser-sized burn hole right beside the stain...oh, and this awkward gaping hole in the carpet up in front on the driver's side.... aside from those things this car is pretty nice. The body has some scratches and a little rust but I wasn't looking for a beauty queen of a vehicle. I just wanted something that would run well and wouldn't cost me 2 months' salary to repair or rebuild.

Almost a month into our relationship, she's beginning to show her colors. The novelty of being a new car owner has pretty much dried up and evaporated. All that's left is the bitter bile of stomach-clenching apprehension and anxiety towards every new little sound that erupts from the engine. To the untrained ear it sounds like ticking or knocking or just a simple metallic vibration. But to me it sounds like a cash register ringing with joy. All of a sudden, I'm a little more homebody-ish, when I don't need to be. I just don't want to have my car break down in the wrong place and the wrong time. And I don't want the expensive dysfunctions to blossom into anything worse. That doesn't make sense, I know. But it's my knee jerk reaction: if my ankle hurts, I use it as little as possible. This is the same thing. If my car is acting funny, I use it as little as possible.

My belly-aching about the car doesn't show it, but I'm actually pretty happy with my car. I can jet to the gym after work and I don't have to wait around for Sonny to get off from work. I can pursue a yummy take-out lunch and hurry to the library to avoid a fine...all in the same afternoon. There's a level of freedom I can't help but enjoy (especially as it starts to warm up out there). Of course, I won't be completely *free* until I know what those odd noises mean... and how much it will cost to rectify.