17 October 2008

It doesn't get much better than...

Sleeping in

Four day weekends

Hugh Jackman


Live music

Road trips

My dog

John "Cougar" Mellencamp

Ice Skating

List Blogs

My aunt's paella (Take that, Lindsay!)

Really amazing photography

Reading on a rainy day

The ocean

Old Friends

03 October 2008

A Tribute to a Classy Dame

They say you never forget your first. And I certainly never will.

I was about 10 years old when my parents proudly returned home with their new, shiny red bundle of joy. They couldn't get over the cool spoiler nestled upon its sleek rear exterior. I was just excited because it was like a cool new toy for our family to enjoy.

The Honda saw me through some very critical events as I grew up. My first ambulance ride came after another motor vehicle T-boned our beloved car as we drove through an intersection downtown. I was fine. The car was not. It underwent some major reconstructive surgery before it was whole again.

When I was 16 years old, I inherited the Honda after my mom bought another car, an unworthy replacement for our red baby. I was happy to say that my first car was so dead sexy and loved claiming ownership of it.

The Honda was even a loyal companion as I returned to school in Washington after a semester away. It was my connection to home, and together, we explored the exotic world of Spokane.

When I turned over custody of my car to my brother as he turned 16, it was bittersweet. I was thrilled to have a new car, which was my 20 year old dream car, but sad to say goodbye to such a loyal friend. At least she would stay in the family and I would see her often.

Then, on Tuesday night, our beloved family vehicle was taken away from us. She was stolen outside a field as my brother played football with his school friends. This tragic turn of events left us all feeling shaken. Empty. We didn't even get to say goodbye. (Single tear rolls down cheek. Chin quivers.)

What now? What?

Devastating. I know. But, fear not, fellow readers, for my story has a happy-ish ending.

Two days after it was stolen, with my brother hopelessly chasing after it, it was found again. That's right. Like any devoted family member, it found its way back to us, although it isn't completely whole. It has come back with many battle scars, and many untold stories of the true horrors that take place in Tucson alley ways. But we are all hopeful that she will one day return to her former glory.

Welcome back, baby. We've missed you.