Goldie

My car, Goldie, and I met on my birthday. She was my present, and we were buddies from the start. Her color is a muted gold, and given that she was presented to me on my fiftieth - translate golden - birthday, her name was pretty easy to choose. 

It is a really good thing that Goldie gets excellent gas mileage, because Goldie and I are running her tires off. There is something so liberating about being able to get behind the wheel and GO somewhere, even on my crashiest days. Even if I don’t have energy enough to shower or put on makeup, I can still throw on a jogging suit and get behind the wheel. I crank up the tunes, invite the dogs to ride along, and we are off. Doesn’t matter where.

If I am behind Goldie’s wheel, I can cruise around looking like everyone else, with a destination and purpose. No one needs to know that inside I feel like crap, and that when I get home, the dogs and I will jam ourselves on Couch and snooze the afternoon away.

Goldie tells me that she’s not crazy about the doggie slobber on her windows. I will try to be more careful about that.