Luna is back, my friends. She’s been back with me for a couple weeks now, and I’m still recovering from missing her.
Cars keep coming up at work and when I refer to my car as “she,” I always feel the need to explain so that I don’t sound nuts. And of course, as you can probably guess, I end up sounding even more nuts. How do I explain to people who don’t really know me yet that I find it completely appropriate to name (and often talk to) cars?
I guess I name things that are important to me, things I interact with often. And my car is incredibly important to me. She’s the first car I got to pick out myself, and when I met her, it didn’t take long before I knew: she was supposed to be my car. And she’s been more than that to me. Like a cross between a guardian angel and a friend.
She was with me for 12 hours from GA to DC, when I was so tired I wanted to cry. She was with me when I battled traffic in the early morning hours to get to my internship. She was with me when I was so sick, I thought I might throw up while I was driving. She was with me when half a dozen rocks from nowhere pummeled the driver’s side. She was with me when I drove away from my very last class.
It’s no wonder I feel a connection with my car. She’s a friend, a protector. I feel so safe in her. She’s taken some beatings for me, especially since coming to DC. And while I don’t think she’s particularly happy about the stop-and-go traffic I usually get stuck in on the way home from work, she’s back with me, wrapping her frame around me. I can’t explain how comfortable I feel with her.
I hope she stays with me for many years. And that when it’s time for me to move on to another car, she’ll get to wrap her protective steel around someone else who can appreciate her as much as I do.
Until then, she’s my guardian friend.