|February 22, 2006|
I never got why people were so obsessed with their cars. Until today. Today I finally understand the irrational love one can have for an inanimate object. Today we became car owners for the first time ever. Today we drove home our silver-bullety Prius.
Look at it -- it's just so cute and round and clean airarrific.
Yes, that is the key. No, there isn't anything else. We stick that box into a receptive box hole and push a big button that looks like an iBook power button. If we're feeling really wild, we don't even need to stick the key box in the box hole at all, we can just have the key nearby (in a pocket, purse, our mouths, etc.) and it will send a remote signal to turn on the car when we push the big button that looks like an iBook power button.
I love everything about this car: the iBook power button, the un-key, the tiny gearshift thingy, the smooth interiors surfaces that I can't stop stroking, the secret storage space near the spare tire, the diamond-lane driving, the touch computer screen. I guess I even like the "new car smell," although the thought of it has always made me kind of nauseous. I can choke it down for Car.
Tomorrow we're really going to let her rip (actually, Car really seems more like a boy. We don't know why.) as we zip on down to Santa Cruz with some friends who will draw straws to decide who gets to ride in the "spaceship." We'll introduce them to Bonny Doon's tasting rooms, have a luxurious lunch of multiple cheeses, then hike off the wine buzz in the Forest of Nisene Marks. What is Nisene Marks and why must we hike it? It's where the epicenter of the 1989 quake is located and Mathra is obsessed with going there. I don't know why.
We want to tuck Car in at night. We want to check on it every five minutes just to be reassured that it is really ours.
If I told you that we kissed the hood of our new car in the privacy of our garage, would you judge me?