love letter to my car

My car is mad at me.

I think it is because I forgot to celebrate the moment she hit 100,000 miles on the road. I guess that is like neglecting to buy your spouse a card on your 25th wedding anniversary. I get it. I was wrong. I admit it. But I think the ‘Ru is taking things a little too far.

All of a sudden after nearly four glorious years together – road trips up and down the California coast to Mendocino, ski weekends to Tahoe, long weekends in Yosemite – she has started squealing and resisting when I turn the steering wheel. I thought it was the power steering fluid. I took her in yesterday – the  moment I heard something was off. I didn’t try turning up the radio and ignoring the problem like I would have in the past with some other car. I didn’t because the ‘Ru is special.

But the mechanics weren’t so sure the problem is the power steering fluid. They added some and said to “see how it goes. Call us.” And lately, it isn’t so good.  I made an appointment for us to visit the best Subaru mechanic I could find on Saturday. But still she is angry with me.

I understand that some people use the 100,000 mile mark as an opportunity to crack open a bottle of champagne and toast their journey together. But I don’t think those people are Subaru owners. Hitting 100,000 miles with a Subaru is nothing. That’s like celebrating your three month anniversary with a new love. Kind of premature. I thought me and the ‘Ru would be together forever. (Or until I move to a city with an adequate public transportation system.)

I’m a little hurt that she would do this to me. And right before Christmas! Especially when I always fed her the Special blend – even when the price of gas was nearly $5/gallon in San Francisco and people told me it was unnecessary. So I guess I am taking this moment to formally  apologize to the ‘Ru. I am sorry. Please don’t take your anger out on me or my wallet any more. I don’t think we can afford it.

Me and the ‘Ru in better days. Proof that we were once happy together.


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