Some relationships never find an exit off the highway to hell

My car is such a trooper. I'd like to commemorate his being with me for 3 years now in a special way, by writing a 2006 highlight of the dear 'ol fellow's life -- and near-death -- experiences.

February 10th, 2006. 12:07 a.m.: It was a snowy night, and we were heading East on Arapahoe Road in Boulder, sitting ho-hum in the left turning lane of one of Boulder's hottest intersections - 28th and Arapahoe. Treasure, the girls and I were discussing the turn of the minute from 12:06 to 12:07 a.m., which just so happened to be the exact minute I turned 22. "Happy Birthday!" we all said. Then, from out of the frosty moonlight (streetlight?) came a black sedan. It appeared to be gliding across the intersection in a half-turn, as if dancing in graceful joy for the falling of the snow. What it actually was doing was a violent, uncontrolled skid directed right at my dear Treasure, who up until this very moment had never been violated in such a way. Car smashing number one of 2006 fell upon us.

March 12th, 2006. 6:30 p.m.: It was a snowy night, and we were heading East on Arapahoe Road in Boulder (I didn't even have to re-type that first part; I just copied and pasted from car smashing #1) when at an intersection up ahead there rang a loud CRASH-BOOM-BANG! Treasure, sensing danger, gladly allowed me to steer us onto a curb, narrowly slipping between a giant oak and the car ahead. Breathing a simultaneous sigh of relief, Treasure, the roomie and I turned our heads just in time to see car-smasher no. 2 come gliding across the snow-slicked road, again giving off an appearance of metallic grace and beauty. How false it was, for it smashed my poor Treasure from behind and he was never the same again. We've worked together at rebuilding a trust with the road, with fellow cars and, come this winter, with the snow. Treasure's progress was obvious and astounding, like a child overcoming a stress-induced stutter. But the glory was to fade as did the snow to the heat of summer...

July 2oth, 2006. Early a.m.: It was a snowy night, and we were ... oops, sorry. I just got so used to it ...
The incident occured unbeknownst to me until the later hours of morning, when I awoke to a note on the carpet. "Debbie, my love ..." I read, but didn't read on just yet, as I was on the phone. "How sweet," thought I, that my beau would leave me a love note to wake up to when he had left early in the morning for a 4-day camping trip. Once off the phone and ready to receive enscribed sweet nothings from my love, I went back to the note to finish it. "Debbie, my love ...". It continued on: "I backed into your car... [insert information regarding it being an accident and that his car got the brunt of the damage, etc., etc.]... I'm sorry. We'll figure this out when I return..." So now, in addition to a missing parking light and smashed front bumper and a punched in back bumper, Treasure sported evenly distributed silver smears across his opposite front and side bumper. This gives him a more even-toned P.O.S.-car appearance. For that, at least, we can be grateful. I never have been a fan of asymmetry.

August 12th, 2006. By the light of the moon: Treasure sat, unperturbed although now visibly scarred from every angle. My little trooper had been run through the mill not once, not twice, but thrice in just a few short months. He chugged and chortled every now and then, but never a complaint, save for the incessant "DING DING DING DING DING" of the "your keys are in the ignition and your door is open" song, regardless of whether the keys are actually in the ignition, or miles away. But this night he sat, thoughtful and grateful to be resting after a late treck to King Sooper's to get me some popsicles for a killer sore throat.
I returned to him the next evening to find his insides all amuck. Glove compartment and console hastily ripped open, objects askew, sunblocking shield carelessly shoved aside, key hole clearly fidgeted with, and last but certainly the LEAST acceptable atrocity - stereo face missing. Just the face, mind you. Treasure's stereo still sits comfortably in its little nook below the temperature dials, but its face is missing, making it impossible to turn on and/or listen to any form of music. Treasure LOVES music. I'm thinking of faxing in a photo of my JVC CD stereo faceplate to the milk-carton makers. That stereo face was like a nanny to Treasure, and he's depleted and grumbly as ever these days...

... [extended pause for blog-reader mourning] ...*

That certainly wasn't the celebration of life-with-Treasure I'd hoped for. But I have one small bit of hope yet to share. Today I took Treasure in for his regular oil change. I threw in a tire rotation just to make him feel spiffier, and I think it may have worked. No bad reports from Rob the angry, disheveled Midas employee, either. Usually he tells me it's a lost cause and I'd be better off with a newer, younger car.** But you know what they say: "One person's junk may be another person's Treasure."

Happy Anniversary, my smashed and violated sweet little ride.


*I use ellipses all the time. They're, like, the perfect pause ... in written form ... See?

**Shamelessly stolen from Dane Cook's "Retaliation," only I substituted "crowd" with "car."