Cars and Me

Cars used to be just cars, a way to get from one place to another.
By now, some of those just-cars have turned vintage, like me.

For the past decade, as close as I could to a vintage car was the retro-looking Mini Cooper, scoring off the charts on the Cuteness Factor. I didn't do a minute of research, I just interviewed every Mini driver I could find: "Do you like your car?" I asked.  "I love it!" they all said.

And so did I.  Three times.

The first Mini was like any first love, unforgettable and sweet.  Decorated with a border of flags, Mini #1 introduced me to people I'd never have met in a less-cute car.

"Sweet ride!" a teenager once said.
"What is that some kind of foreign car or what?" a man in Alabama once asked.
"I bet I could put your car in the back of my truck," teased a man at McDonalds.

Six years ago, stuck in a ditch in Pennsylvania, I heard two teenagers (who appeared out of nowhere) say, "Don't worry, Lady, we'll pick up your little car and get you going again."

One day, another customer at the Mini Center crashed into Little Mini #1's boot and….well, I was fickle enough to trade for a new one, the prettiest one ever, turquoise.

Kate says the turquoise one had a target on her.  Three different drivers collided into her while I was sitting still.  Each time, we patched her up and moved on.  But when I got the news that Elena was coming into the world, I worried about the car, the baby, and the target, and traded her in on a larger one, the white Countryman.

I have now decided (Gulp!)  to trade Big Minnie for a Newbie.  It's been a hard decision to leave the club of Mini drivers who wave at each other when we meet, but the time is right.

The Cuteness Factor is not one of  Consumer Reports' rating categories.  They talk about maneuverability, reliability, cost to maintain, and engine performance.

"Do you want to look under the hood?" salesmen ask.
"No," I say. "Why?  What for?  Let me see how the doors open, how quiet the ride is.  I'm interested in color, body design, safety, and comfort." I feel like I'm placing ads in a dating service.

My first car-of-my-own was a 1990 Acura Integra--turquoise. I loved that car!  But now--what with the cookie cutter mentality of car designers--I'd be hard pressed to tell the difference between an Acura and any other car.

A decade later, that adorable little Integra started having cooling problems. So in 1999, I bought a reliable and comfortable Camry, a sedan that was trouble free except for being dinged by several errant shopping carts.

I am now, for the first time, doing serious research--unlike former purchases that were totally love-driven.  I am learning to consider responsiveness, agility, and sensitivity--qualities some of us might have done well to consider when we once upon a time promised "til death to us part" with actual people.

I wonder: would any of us ever have married if we'd had the Internet to tally up the points of attractiveness of our potential partners--or ourselves?  Would any of us have picked a person for a friend whose likability score was only 60? At my age, I won't even talk about the depressing depreciation factor!