Until recently, I had never really understood why men fawned over their cars, why they gave them female names and washed and polished them to a shine. I had a friend in college who treated his truck better then he'll probably end up treating his future love interests. He would pose her in front of pretty backdrops and take pictures of her, snapping away at every angle, admiring the beauty of his Toyota truck.
I, of course, was sitting bored in the front seat, slightly annoyed that we had to stop our off-roading adventure for an impromptu photo shoot of his beloved "Yota." I couldn't imagine what he was going to do with those pictures; it's not like the truck was going to smile at him or tilt its head in a certain way -- it was a truck!
But, then, it happened to me.
Recently, I bought my first new car. She was named Delilah within a day, and we began a grand adventure as we got to know each other.
As I slowly explored all of her cool features and hidden compartments, I began to realize how much I had in common with my "crazy" friend Tom. I was obsessed with keeping Delilah clean and sparkly, making sure that I parked her perfectly so as not to get bumped. I drove her cautiously and smoothly to make the most of her gas, and I slowly began to fall in love.
Now some people might be concerned with the fact that I was falling in love with my car, after all, it's a car, not a nice Jewish boy. But if they would just stop to hear me out, they would understand how the bond between a car and its owner is, hands down, the perfect relationship.
The only thing my car needs on a regular basis is gas and oil. She isn't picky about brand names. She is always there for me, waiting for when I will need her. She turns on when I need her to and off when I'm done.
She never makes demands about where to go, and she never criticizes my driving. She keeps me cool at the press of a button and offers me a variety of music to listen to.
My car doesn't get annoyed when I talk on the phone, she doesn't protest if I tap her wheel along to the music and she'll even take over the gas pedal for me if I get tired. She is a pleasure to be in and around, and on top of it all, she's purple! I ask you, what's not to love?
So here I am, admitting my undying love of my new car. I know in time her sparkle may fade, her interior may get dirty and she might need some maintenance here and there. But she'll always be my perfect Delilah, and whoever ends up loving me for eternity will have to love her, too. After all, we are a package deal now.
Caroline Cobrin is a freelance writer living in Los Angeles. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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