It smells a bit like french fries, but that’s ok. It just reminds me of the late night phone call I got the night before from my roommate begging me to rescue her from a frat party. We made a pit stop at Bojangles after and grabbed fries and sweet tea. My cup still hung out in the center console, even though all the ice had melted and the tea was warm and gross now, I knew that cup would be there a week or two from now.
I clicked the tiny silver button at the top of my fob, put the key in, and jimmied the steering wheel so I could crank the engine. My fingers lingered on the break in the leather on the steering wheel where my book bag had gotten caught one day and left a huge scrape. And my eyes traveled down to the horn where the stain still sits from the time I made an attempt to multi task. Driving and trying to dip my french fries in honey mustard proved to be a more difficult task than anticipated and my dipping sauce ended up forever being stained on my steering wheel after I attempted to wipe it off with my finger. Too bad I wasn’t one of those people who always left paper napkins in their car… That would’ve been helpful.
As music blared through the speakers, my solar charged dancing flower looked at me pitifully. The plastic sunflower drooped in a depressing way ever since my dad got annoyed with it and tried to make it stop. I never figured out how to fix it after that but I refused to get a new one. The leaves would occasionally attempt to do a little jig, but mostly it just sat there. My mom got it for me from the dollar store after my first wreck. She put it on my dash when my car came home from the shop.
My high school graduation cord still swings from my rearview mirror, even though as a junior in college, I’m pretty sure that trend is a little outdated. But I mess with it a lot at stop lights so I haven’t even considered taking it down, at least until I graduate college. Then maybe I’ll replace the navy and white thread, with purple and gold.
I had no idea how long this car would be with me and what we would go through together. But nothing seems to be more therapeutic for me than when I turn down the highway and listen to music so loud, I cant even hear my own thoughts. Seeing the yellow lines of the lanes fly by, leading me to a new town, is the best kind of relaxation that I have been able to come by. College has been a stressful time, and its refereshing having something like my car, which has been with me since high school, to remind me of home. I owe a lot to this four wheeled thing that travels with me everywhere I go, and the relief and oppurtunity it has given me. It’s strange to think about a car that way.