I think I've proven just how hopelessly and irreversibly in love I am... Love is about sacrifices, selflessness, and in my case, braving the dark cold of a mid-December's eve so that I can wash the mud off my baby.
Earlier tonight I was trying to park my BMW in a grassy parking lot. While attempting to turn around, the right rear tire got stuck in the mud. For the first time, my baby got stuck in the mud. I apologized profusely, I stroked the dashboard, I told it everything would be okay if it could just find a way out. Turning the steering wheel, revving the engine, together we made it out of the parking lot. But not before coating the entire rear in muck.
But like a dutiful lover, the minute I pulled into the driveway, I leapt out, grabbed the hose, and cleaned that mud right off. It was dark, it was forty-three degrees outside, and yes, I was even wearing short-sleeves and sandals, but did I care? No. My hands may be chapped, but my baby's sitting pretty in the driveway, sparkling in the Christmas lights.
And yes, I realize I am absolutely certifiable. But would I do this for any other car but my baby? Okay, maybe for a Ferrari, but heck, I would have parked ten blocks away and walked through snow before pulling a pony into a grassy parking lot. But that's beside the point. For what other cause than love would someone do something like that?
Yup, certifiable. The other day I drove past the Ferrari dealership while en route to the grocery store. (Stop. How cool is it that there's a Ferrari dealership on the way to the grocery store? Okay, continue.) The last time I was in there they had a beautiful Scaglietti in the show room - silver, sleek, so sophisticated you could just die. I haven't been back there in a while and I was so nervous that they'd sold it. But, driving by that glass showroom, I saw it, glistening in all its $250,000 glory.
I swear, I couldn't help it, the giggles just came out of nowhere. I couldn't stop. My Mother, sitting in the passenger seat, was a little confused by the sudden outburst. In between the fits of pure joy I had to sputter an explanation. Scaglietti... V12... vroom... pretty.. mmmmm...
My Mom has decided that if I ever have a reaction like that after meeting a man, she'll know it's all over.
Men are great and all, but I just don't think that's possible. Men don't have V12 engines. :)
