Auto attachment

Ha! You thought it had something to do with computers, IT, coding, word processing, or something of that sort, when in actuality, it was about auto---mobiles!

Why is it that some of us become so attached to our vehicles? And not necessarily every one of our vehicles, but only certain ones. For instance, I had never been one to bestow a name on my car until my children decided that we had to, and then it became a process somewhat like naming the family dog. It always seemed to have something to do with the nature of the beast. The silver Caravan became The Silver Bullet, Stephen's old Suburban became The Beast, The red Expedition became Thor, and my CRV became Scooter because he scooted in comparison to my lumbering but incredibly smooth Suburban. Then there was Stephen's truck that took him through 5 years of college and a year beyond, The Greanie Meanie - big. green Z71 that roared down the highway and across every kind of terrain possible (and surely across some that I might have thought impossible because that is the way of vehicles that are not always under the scrutiny of the mom).

I think when you give something a name and live with its ups and downs for years, it personifies the object to where you truly feel grief upon its loss. No melodrama intended here. I was crushed to have contributed to Scooter's injuries (and yes, I admit that part of it was the whole monetary issue) two weeks ago. And now we have to face the demise of The Greanie Meanie.
The numbers and the emissions laws have conspired against us, and it seems the Texas version of Cash for Clunkers will be the end of the long and winding road for him.

Aha! But a new birth is awaiting! An adoption! A Rescue Wagon lies waiting for us somewhere, I'm sure. We'll keep you posted.