lookin' at my Gucci it's about that time

Dearest Mama,
I think the time has come to release the car.
Wait, let me be more specific. It's time to release the 2nd car your death helped me to buy. True, that first one, the Elantra from the auction yard, wasn't in my possession for very long before it went away. What a terrible decision that purchase had been! But, in my defense, you had only recently died and I truly was not sane.
Not saying I am now sane, but I'm a lot closer to that state. Mostly. Especially if you disregard my writing letters to dead people. (smile)
No blame towards my husband; bless his heart, he was trying to go along with anything I wanted, anything, if it would only make me less sad. And at the time, I wanted that green car.
So, I'm not talking about that vehicle, bought to replace my 18-year-old Subaru which I had driven for thirteen years at the time. Hmmm...that means I drove that Subaru through its terrible teens! Maybe that's why it told me one day, "Get OUT! We're DONE!" The car was all grown-up and wanted me to set it free!
Nah, I don't think that was it. The reason I had to release the Subaru was the screwdriver-in-the-carburetor trick simply wasn't working anymore and no one around this neck of the woods seemed to know how to successfully repair Surefoot's carburetor.
Anywho. On the 16th of May of 2001, Jeff and I had both been forced to buy replacement cars for our aging, no longer working models. There we were, at the Saturn dealership, chosen for four reasons. First: his mom, as a retired GM employee, could get us a discount on new vehicles. Very good! Second: Saturn had great pricing going on, with 0.9% as the finance rate. Definitely a plus! Third: we had decided to buy American-made vehicles. Saturn was made right around the corner, practically, in Tennessee. So, that was good, our money would be directly benefiting other citizens of the USA. Fourth, and not necessarily last in our considerations, Jeff knew the man in charge there, Virgil, and had high regard for him and the product. Fine by me.
And it was a very good car-buying experience! I told them I wanted a stick-shift sedan, with roll-down windows and keyed locks. I had expected them to not have any such vehicle in this world of automatics and power-everthing... but they did! And it was this gorgeous "Blue Metallic" color! Excellent!
Jeff came within the hour and found the car of his dreams, the SC3 coupe with the sunroof and the trick door. And, wonder of wonders, it, too, was Blue Metallic and manual transmission! We hadn't planned to having matching cars, but now we did, at least in color. Cool beans! Our very first new cars, ever, and they were the same color!
As you know, that was very short-lived. We drove off the lot around 10 PM on a Wednesday night; by 9 AM on Friday morning, his car was totaled by a late-shift worker driving while sleeping. If Jeff had been driving his old car, with no airbags, he would have been dead. So, thank you to you and all of the angels for that good fortune. Jeff was able to walk away from the wreck with no injuries. What a miracle!
His second brand-new car was not blue, but was still an SC3, so that was all to the good. It had been a little odd to have two blue cars of the same hue.
That was then. Now, he no longer has that car and I've been considering getting a newer model ever since last August, when the gearshift lever had the broken bushing and wouldn't shift. When the physicist and I were returning from o-HI-o and ended up stranded in Macon, Georgia. Which, as it turned out, wasn't so bad since my nephew was able to take us in for the night and had an unexpectedly free Sunday morning (the flooring job had been postponed by the owner) to ferry us to the airport to rent a car. Hmmm. Maybe you and the angels helped arrange for him to be home that night and available the next day? I am, as always, ever so grateful.
Even then, the key was having difficulties with the ignition. Again. Sometimes, it turned easily; other times, not so much. You would have to hold your mouth just right. (smile)
I knew it was having problems, but I went up to Pennsylvania anyway. Melaness had waited all year for me to come and I had promised I would. So, I did, right after the 4th of July. Celebrating my independence, you know. (smile)
That was all fine and good! The car sat in the driveway for almost all of the four days I was there. Then, on the Tuesday, off I went to Virginia, to visit family and friends for a few days. Still, no real problems, but a bit more dicey to turn that key in the ignition. I made it to Historic Powhatan, near Williamsburg, and got checked in and unpacked. I even went to the grocery store that night without mishap.
Wednesday morning, I could not turn the car on. The key would not budge. At all.
Bummer.
Not to fret, though. Tuesday's drive, and the odd visit with the former Marine in Fredericksburg, had been a bit wearing on me, so it was nice to have been forced to take a day off. Amazingly, the resort even had activities I participated in (a Colonial dance party on the front lawn, followed by a live band by the pool) AND provided me with a half-priced dinner, in the form of happy-hour specials at the onsite bar and grill. A platter of chicken tenders, served with mayonnaise, and a platter of yummy, garlicky fries! Good!
The next morning, the key worked like a charm and off I went to the Mariners' Museum for several hours. "Abandon Ship!" was full of life-saving tips and sad tales. "The War of 1812," done in comic-relief style with pop culture references, informed and entertained. "Fragile Waters," with black-and-white documentation of waterways in the western United States, of the ocean, and in the New England states by Adams, Brooks, and Monnelly. What a fabulous way to spend time!
I then left for my visit with Cousin Michelle and her family and Auntie and Uncle in Yorktown. I had a wonderful time with the girls, playing "Mario" something on the wii, then catching up with the grown-ups. I even ate two slices of Domino's pizza - and three lactase pills! - and thoroughly enjoyed it! At the end of the evening, I got back in the car and, thankfully, the key turned with no problem. Yeah!
The next morning, exactly one week after my departure from Savannah, I was on the road for points south. I was careful to walk from my unit to registration to check out, not wanting to chance burning up too many starts with my key. Even when Australian Nuvi led me to the Jamestown-Scotland Ferry, I was careful to not turn the key all the way off, for fear of being stuck on the ferry.
When I was South of the Border, I stopped to feed the car, again not turning the key off. But I needed to feed me, too, and certainly could not leave my key in the ignition...right? Right. And I was almost stranded there... but the key finally turned and the engine sprang to life. Whew! I successfully, and safely, arrived home, unpacked the car, and headed to a local noodle place with the peace Guy for dinner. And we almost got stranded there. I couldn't turn the key. He reached over and it turned and home we went.
That was it, too. No more turning by that key. Certainly no more turning by the old key.
For a few days, that was fine. There was plenty to do around the house and the housemate has been very generous with taking me to the grocery store or out to karaoke.
Still, after a few days of waiting, waiting, waiting for the GM computer with the key codes to return online, I was starting to get antsy. My sense of independence was definitely threatened.
The GM man had suggested that the key code might be on the original paperwork from buying the car. Twelve years ago. Yeah, I should still have that - probably not! So, yesterday morning, after breakfast, I dug out the car files and started plowing through them. No sales invoice for the car, but I did find the huge sticker decals that had been on my car, as well as both of Jeff's cars. Incredible, right? So, I'm showing them to the peace Guy and talking about how these were the first new cars Jeff and I had ever had. He replies that's he's 49 and has never had a new car and I say I was 43 before I did...and immediately I started falling apart. I could feel the tidal wave of emotion slam into me and drag me under, but I made it to the safety of the shower before the sobs hit full force.
There's no way I could have explained to him that the reason I was able to get a new car was because you had died.
Those words were not possible for me.
He was preoccupied with party preparations, so I considered that as a break for me. I had managed to get out of the dining room without raining on his parade, so to speak. After the shower, I dressed and left the house, saying I was going to the park to sit on a swing. He was busy with brownies for a different party, so I again escaped without having to talk, allowing me to keep a tight rein on my emotional state.
I don't know why I thought the park would be deserted, as many kids as there are in this neighborhood. I didn't even see them at first, under the shelter of the picnic area. Then, the sprays of water at the basketball court caught my gaze and held it.
Water.
Not saltwater, but, still, water.
My path turned toward the gently arching streams, the water glistening in the sun, the drops singing as they hit the pavement. I almost ran to get into it, ditching my shoes and phone, but rushing, fully clad, into the cool water. Such release! Then, a Bob Marley tune started playing in my head and I found myself slowly dancing into and out of and through the continuous rain of fresh water.
I found myself beginning to feel much better. Maybe, indeed, "every little thing gonna be all right." This song was a gift to me - from you? Or, now that I think about it, perhaps from Daddy? The song would certainly be more likely to be one of his favorites.
I am blessed to have y'all as angels to look after my mental health.
I am.
But I'd rather have you still as flesh and blood mortals.
Sigh. Impossible things.
So. As I was saying, I found myself relaxing and the tightly coiled knots of emotion gave way to the gentle pressure of the song and the spray and the dance. And it was all mine for at least thirty minutes.
Incredible.
When a young mother and her children did come to the basketball court shower, I was ready to be sociable again. I pointed out to the children the tiny rainbows and glittering brightness of the drops as they fell. Magical! The little girl asked me to show her how to dance in the glimmer of falling water and I encouraged her to find her own steps, maybe to a song she knew. "Row, row, row your boat" came to mind and soon we were both twirling!
After an hour of water therapy, I took my cue to leave when they did. I went home and started mowing the back yard and the housemate went to work. A little later, the GM man called to say the website was still down, but recommended I call a locksmith that made house calls. So I did. And he came, he saw, he verified what I already knew: the ignition cylinder needed to be replaced. Again.
At least it had worked for seven years this time.
I put in a call to the GM man, leaving my request on his voice mail. Might they have the part in stock? If so, or if not, would he please call me in the morning and let me know?
Then I settled in to wait for the new day, as naught else could be done.
And, after a phone call to my first niece started me crying again, I started looking at cars online. The credit union has a low auto loan rate right now and a long list of cars to finance.
A very long list.
I narrowed it down to just sedans.
Still, a very long list. I spent hours wading through, looking at just those which had manual transmissions, just those available in blues and greens and oranges, just those which had trunks.
I narrowed it down to 22.
Today, the key turned and I picked up the in-stock part and the fabulously friendly locksmith got it installed and even made two keys for me. He even showed me what was wrong on the old cylinder.
Very nice.
But it may still be time to buy another car.
So, I'll keep the list handy for a while.
Now, I'm going for a ride.
with much love always!
ykw