Currently driving a 1993 Ford Escort Wagon. Teal. Shiny. Relatively cute, for a station wagon. Named Zalman, affectionately called Turbowagon, in order to boost his self-esteem and keep his spirits up in narsty Iowa winters. Purchased in 1997 upon discovery that our family was about to expand. (The Festiva --Chiclet-- was simply not “family-friendly”.)
I love the colourful stickers on Zally’s windshield. One is a big butterfly, the other is a sun. I love Zally’s stereo, and his rollaway hatch cover. I love his luggage rack. We’ve never actually used it for luggage, but when I left my cell phone on top of the car and went driving 65 down the interstate, Zally’s trusty luggage rack caught the phone and held it tight. I love that I can fit three car seats in the back. I love that Zally and I are so in tune (so to speak)… it’s almost like he was designed for me to drive. He’s treated me very well for the past two years, getting me around in yucky weather, getting good gas mileage, taking my son home from the hospital, etc. In light of all that, here is what I hate.
I hate the fact that Zalman the Teal Turbowagon has nearly 125,000 miles on him. My friend is getting old. He spends alot of time resting these days, as he exhausts easily (another unintended pun). It’s very disturbing, the notion that my Zally may not make it through the winter. I take solace in the belief that, since we had a late summer, perhaps winter will be late coming as well, and I may be able to keep him going till March. After that, who knows.
:::sniff, sniff::: Poor Zalman. He has no idea.
Veni, Vidi, Visa … I came, I saw, I bought.