Ride on.

It hit me while I was driving home from Cliff’s. I had dropped him off home after spending an evening with him and Jess. That information isn’t relevant, but whatever. I’ve been thinking about cars lately. A new car. A used car. A different car.

The realization is the obvious implication that I’m.. ready to give up the Van. I’ve grown up with that van. After we moved, that was all I had left of my childhood. That growing-up vehicle attachment. That first-driving vehicle attachment. As if I’ve already had my adventures, and oh have I had my adventures in that Van, and I’m ready to move on. Move on.

I’ve spent years clinging to so many notions of “self”, both internal and external. Clinging to odd personality traits, claiming they were “me”. Clinging to inanimate objects, claiming their sentimental value. The ground stops shaking, the skies open, and suddenly I don’t need anything to hang onto. I’ve really gotten into this whole going-completely-against myself. Just doing things to be completely contradictory to my so-called nature.

Cars? I make fun of people with appealing cars. My worst fear was being the opposite of myself. Being.. not me. Funny, turns out my worst fear was being so comfortable with myself to step outself of that comfort zone. To actually enjoy being that which I then loathed. How humorous indeed it would be to have a fancy car. It’s so not me. And yet, at the same time, it completely fits. Right next to my huge wang. Oh yes. You don’t call them muscle cars for nothing.

See, I’ve noticed a recurrent noise with the Van. I know my noises. It used to be a noise I’d only hear if the engine was straining too much (ie: foot far down on pedal while accelerating). Now I hear it if its accelerating at all. It perturbs me. I’ve reached the point where.. Time to run her into the ground? I’ll wake up one day and realize, “Hmm, guess I’m buying a new mode of transportation today.”

I should tell Dan to keep an eye out for me. I know my price range is a bit higher than his. It’s a pity he smashed his `86 Chevy Celebrity. I loved that car. He wants to ditch his huge van because it eats gas. And, well. He got that van to haul band equipment. That dream has passed for him.

Cliff tells me my van isn’t nearly as bad as his. It’s my understanding that his transmission is a little querky. The middle gears sort of don’t exist anymore, so it jumps from first to fourth. It’ll go AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGG, but once it hits a certain speed, it’ll kick into fourth and it purrs. Thankfully, he also has access to The Pontiac. Pays to have parents with spare cars.

Hell, my sister is on her second hand-me-down car. I remember her first-first car. She bought a um. I couldn’t name the model or year. But it was blue and a stick shift! Har har. When we inherited my Grandpa’s `88 Camry, we found ourselves with four cars. So she ditched her car and took that car. I remember my dad ditching his `91 Tempo for a brand new `01 Corolla. And as recent as one year ago, my dad bought another Corolla, my sister ditched the old Camry as it was rusting to death and took the `01 Corolla. Good deal for her.

And for anybody that is keeping track, we got the `91 Ford Tempo used to displace the `83 Dodge Colt. My sister wanted to drive that car so badly. Frankly, I have to agree. It may not have had much pep at the end of its life, but that car was. .. It’s a RED MANUAL DODGE COLT. *laughs* We had to sand down the bumper every year and re-spraypaint it.

Save my money. Save my money and run her INTO THE GROUND. …SOMEONE STOLE A HUBCAP. Well, maybe. Maybe it just fell off. That infernal back-right tire is forever cursed. I don’t really feel like taking my spare hubcap off the wall to replace it. I’d rather keep that hubcap as clean as possible. I do have rather nice hubcaps. If you *nudgenudge* know what I mean. *snaps his fingers at you*

For those that haven’t heard the story, I spun out once on ice in December 2000. Did a 180, ended up on the curb facing the wrong way. The back-right hubcap was smashed by the curb. Wasn’t pretty. I hung it on the wall for a long time. (Okay, it’s still on my wall.) I eventually went down to the junkyard to find a replacement. I found four. I felt nice and only took two. They weren’t exact matches, but who really notices those things? They were in good shape. Not as good as my own hubcaps, but good enough. I took one of the good hubcaps off the car, and put both replacements on. So I have a smashed hubcap on my wall, as well as a shiny Chrysler hubcap. I mean Dodge. I mean. Har har. You know what I mean.

I’m openning tomorrow, Monday, and Tuesday. My schedule changes to meet the needs of other people requesting off. I don’t mind, I like variety. And, I like openning. Except on Sundays. Sundays suck because I don’t have an hour advance to put up the pastries and bagels. I hope Darren isn’t a cockbuffer about how I rearrange the dishes. That would be mighty ugsome to me.