Car Talk

I like to think I'm about as far from a material girl as you can get (no way I'm about to be mistaken for Madonna, big M or small), so I certainly don't believe that a car says all that much about a person. But today, I took a look at mine, and thought in a flash that it could symbolize me in several pretty scary ways.

So, I decided this will be my first intentional meme. (A newbie, I found out I started one before by accident.)

How does your car represent your life?

I drive an old, tired, dirty, no-frills Saturn. It has power nothing. (How many bloggers crank down their window the old fashioned way?! I scraped together my pennies to buy it, my first car, 12 years ago, back when $250 a month scared me, but I scrupulously paid my loan off nearly a year early.) I remember the new car smell lasting longer than I expected, but car care took a back seat, no pun intended, once kids came along. Snacks, Disney audio cassettes, tissues, and emergency diaper supplies litter my front seat. Goldfish and raisins litter my back seats. I angled my rearview mirror for a slight view of the road, and a good hard look at the wrestling mats I call car seats. I am almost never alone in my car, and while I drive, I multitask. I spend most of the time in my car fulfilling requests and demands - for food, for toys, for stories, for intervention, for mediation. Like my life, my car gets too loud for my liking, and the crying jags inside take a toll on the shock absorbers. My car needs some TLC. It's always low on fuel, makes a few weird noises, and sometimes smells kind of off. Crayon scrawls decorate one door's interior, giving it a wounded look. I wish I could afford to trade in my car for something more fuel efficient, but also something roomier, more comfortable, more convenient. I have given up on style. Sometimes I am embarrassed by my car, but not in a status conscious way. My car might be kind of gross, but it's mine and I feel like I should be the only one talking smack about it.
Clearly, I'm not just talking about my Saturn, here, people.

Your turn.