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"We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit." ~Aristotle

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Thursday, July 15, 2010

My Car: My Sanctuary, My Chariot, My Office ...

I have this thing with a friend of mine; both of us would rather drive-thru and park than go into a fast food restaurant. Our husbands abhor this practice and the drive-thru in general. My Hero says eating and driving just accentuates his inability to keep his food off his shirt in the first place.

I really like my car. It's the perfect size for us as a family, it meets all my car needs (radio controls on the steering wheel, a large trunk, a bench front seat and decent cup holders). It even has the bonus of leather interior and automatic start (no heated seats or one of those limo privacy screens ... hey, a girl can dream, right?). It's a completely nondescript brown/tan color, it's relatively quiet. Right now we are having issues with fan controls 2 and 3, but otherwise it has served us well these many years. It may smell of fries, but not of milk (anymore, thank goodness).

By Friday I have quite an impressive archeological survey of the week. Wrappers, mugs, books, magazines, travel Bingo, a Leaspter, something to return to someone, the paper recycling container, school papers, some sort of project involving pipe cleaners and glitter... and always something sticky, somewhere.

I love getting into a hot car. Especially when coming out of an over-air conditioned building. Even when it's hot outside, and in about 3 minutes I will need the AC blowing full tilt ... I love that "baked car" feeling. Ok, I'm weird. I'm ok with that.

All this aside: I don't just love my car. I love BEING in my car. Upon some reflection, I suppose it comes down to control: a small, contained environment where I command the speed, the temperature and the destination. I can sit there and do nothing (which I have been known to do, when we arrive home ... stay in the parked car, recline my seat and CHILL; this, too, I believe slightly irritates my husband), I can crank up the tunes and boogie. I can "put on the banjo song" for the kids. I can change my mind at the last minute and head somewhere else, and I can "turn this car around."

What's the point? maybe I don't have one. But if you see me sitting in my car

"... please don't give a thought to me, I'm really doing fine.
You can always find me here, having quite a time."

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