Now, I'll admit, I'm probably one of the most bitter and cynical people you will ever meet. I try to hide it under giggles and smiles, but the fact remains out there. I won't deny it either. I'm bitter. I've dealt with it. I've come to terms with it. I'm ok that that's who I am.
All that being said, when it comes to my car, I'm particularly bitter.
Gumby (my car is green, so the obvious choice for a name was Gumby) and I have been through it all. What was built as a four-door compact car, I have attempted to transition to an off-roading beast of a car. No, I don't have any mechanical skills (although I have a great story about successfully changing out an alternator.....another time), and therefore have not made any physical adjustments to my car to allow him to "off-road." I simply refuse to believe that there are places I can't get to by car. When driving down a country road, I'll see a spot that I just need to photograph. Will the giant dirt potholes stop me? Never. Have those potholes often led to me getting stuck in a ditch? Often. Still, I won't be deterred.
The only issue is, is that Gumby fights back. Viciously.
Five years ago I moved 850 miles away from my hometown. I loaded him down with more stuff than should ever fit into one vehicle that is not the size of 16-wheeler. The plan was to start driving at 4:00 the next morning, but at 9:00 the night before I was still putting the last few items in my trunk. It was those last few items that did it. Gumby was pushed over the edge. And what was his means of fighting back? Breaking the trunk. Yes. I never thought it was possible to break a trunk, but sure enough there it was broken all the same. Seven hours before I was suppose to leave. Now let me tell you, driving 850 miles with a broken trunk is far less than ideal. Every hundred miles or so, we pulled over, made sure nothing had flown out of the trunk, strapped it back down and proceeded on our way. At 6:00am we found ourselves waiting for Lowe's to open to purchase bungee straps to help hold my trunk down. Its still dark at 6:00am in case you didn't know. I know now. Because I saw it.
Five years later, Gumby and I are still going at it. You have to bear in mind that my car is all mine, paid off 100%. The one thing in my life I don't owe money on. So I will drive that car into the ground if its the last thing I do. It squeals when driven under 25 mph, the paint is rubbed off causing some of the metal to rust and the antenna continually pries itself loose threatening to fall off. But I own it. Every broken, rusted piece.
Yesterday I decided that although I spent many hours in recent weeks complaining about my car, I needed to make an attempt to take care of it. I'm sure he was clearly aware of my neglect. So, I spent two hours in the driveway with it, cleaning the windows, the wiper blades, adding windshield wiper fluid, sorting out papers in the backseat. All in all trying to restore order to my life while giving Gumby as much love as I could muster on a Tuesday evening. Despite my grand overture, my love was unappreciated by him. As I walked back into my apartment, I turned to lock the back door. I reached in my pocket only to find a gum wrapper and a nickel. No keys. I won't write out the explitives that came pouring out of my mouth as the realization that my keys were sitting on the driver's seat locked nice inside my car.
Gumby's revenge is a cruel one.
