I never fooled myself into thinking that my car has a bright and glorious future. Beckzy is well-worn and poised for the retirement home.
The thing is, she runs so WELL. Sure she sounds a bit farty when she accelerates, but LOTS of old broads sound like that. And if her doors let in the rain and there are a few coffee stains on the quote-unquote "upholstery," who am I to complain?
But today Beckzy began to make a new noise, a sort of pleasant whine which changes pitch depending on her speed. I tried to pretend that she was singing to me out of sheer joy, but self-deception won't get me very far (and will probably just leave me stranded on a highway somewhere). Nope, Beckzy has an as yet undiagnosed problem.
If she went belly-up on me tomorrow I would be very sad, but I would survive. I told Vanilla today that driving my car gives me an incredible sense of freedom. Vanilla said "Driving also gives you the freedom to pay bills." She knows.
So please say a prayer for Beckzy as I gird myself to take her to a mechanic. I'll probably get fleeced but hopefully my darling car will be better for it.