TONIGHT I'M doing something that I haven't done in more than eight years. Would you like to take a guess? No smartass, I trimmed my nose hairs just last week. Try again. Wrong: I eat at McDonald's almost every time I'm really hung over (which I wish I could say was more than eight years ago, but it's probably closer to eight days). Okay, give up? Tonight I'm buying a new car.
For nearly a decade I've been driving a previously-owned, rather simple black Jeep Cherokee. I bought it because it was good in the snow, okay on gas, and it could get the shit kicked out of it while living in the city and the abuse would only add to its blue-collar charm. I've never owned another car longer than I've owned my Jeep. In fact, I used to change cars quite frequently. The previous record-holder was an electric-blue Chevy Camaro that I drove during high school. I owned that for three years - four if you count the year it sat in my driveway with a for sale sign in the window. Ah yes, the good ol' North Shore automotive lawn ornament. It's often paired with the decorative side-yard clothesline. God, I loved growing up in Billerica.
As I sign the paperwork and hand over the key that I've carried in my back pocket for nearly a decade, I start to feel a little nostalgic. I'm going to miss my old car. I mean, sure it stinks like the ass of a dead giraffe, and the right front speaker only works when you combine a left-hand turn with a pothole, but it was a good car. It's provided me with dependable transportation, a place to store my ever-growing collection of used coffee cups, and quite a few memories. I've slept in it a few times, held important conversations in it, and I've driven it to places that have made me both happy and sad. I've had sex in it. Hell, everyone's had sex in it: it was stolen once when I lived in Charlestown and found five days later without its tires and containing a pair of both men's and woman's underwear. (I like to tell myself it was a sweet, romantic evening between a very clean man and his pristine wife, but the empty bottle of Boone's Farm and the footprints on the ceiling said otherwise.)
My new car will also be a Jeep. And like its predecessor, it's rather simple and black. New memories will start to form in it, new smells will be created, and the scars of city life will no doubt start to show. But for now I'll just enjoy the smooth ride, the working stereo, and the cup holders that will certainly come in handy during those Mickey D's recovery breakfasts. As for my old car, I'm not really sure what's going to happen to it. I just hope someone shows it the love it deserves. And when I say love, I don't mean an evening of grand theft, two-dollar wine, and trunk sex. @
