i signed to accept 5 existing miles

this is matilda, the world's tinest car, and skinny, the world's tiniest tree. matilda has been my car for seven years, and despite the fact that i left her for new york for long periods of time, we love each other very much. she hugs the roads, drops her top and can do 0-60 in the time it takes me to shift from first to fifth. she has a drop-dead amazing second gear. she complains but usually goes if i try to start in third gear at a stop sign. she has a tiny cockpit, two pop-up headlights and the smallest trunk in the world.

it wasn't always easy for us-- last summer, people flicked cigarette butts on her roof on the fourth of july that burned through the canvas. the summer before that, a deer tried to kill us on hwy 36 and i had to *actually* use the heel-and-toe racing method that my dad taught me on a whim-- which caused 25' of extreme skid marks, 50 feet of terrifying fish-tailing and near deer-in-lap, car-in-canyon death. and then there are the hot bolts in roof that always seem to fall in my lap when i'm wearing shorts and it's over 100 degrees outside.

she is small, impractical, dangerous, and unfairly pegged as a gay man's play toy-- and i love her. my dad bought the car in 1991, the second year they made miatas, and kept her until i was in high school because he's a very kind man and knew how much i loved the car. he taught me how to drive the day before school started-- we went out to a parking lot where i practiced for an hour, drove home lurching and stalling at every stop sign, and learned the words "sports clutch" and "hurt this transmission, never come home." our house was on a slight hill which ended at a busy street and a stop sign at an incline. on the first day of school, my dad actually ran out into the yard to watch me start (and nearly stall,) and-- this is not an exaggeration-- ran up the street next to the car as i drove, yelling "clutch! gas! good! gas! good! SECOND! NOW! CLUTCH!". all of my neighbors came running to their doors to see the debacle, but i did not crash, stall or die, and my dad's cup of coffee, which he held for the entire run, did not spill one drop.

i have wonderful memories in this car. driving with the top down on a fall afternoon has been one of the most simple, happy pleasures of my adult life. i drove matilda to high school, to the mountains, to three funerals and a wedding, to dates, to friends' houses, and even to santa fe and back (with matt in the passenger side literally asleep the entire trip). she's made it through winters with 75 pounds of snow in the back (gaa) and summers with pack rats nested in her engine. she's a great, fantastic car, and i've always felt a little bit more jane and a lot more ridiculous in her company.

i'm writing an ode to matilda today because i thought about all of these things as i drove her into longmont to pick up my new car. i've been contemplating this day since my freshman year of college, and it's finally here-- i've given up my beloved, sexy, entertaining red sports car for something responsible, safe and big enough to carry a cello without putting the top down (yes, even in the winter).
i've traded in my tape deck and frozen clock (u.uu is the constant time these days) for a cd player and mp3 hookup, i've traded in crappy windshield wipers and a scrunched driver's seat for cup holders and air bags. by some saving grace, my dad got caught up in nostalgia for her too and we might spend some time fixing her up together (a few more drives!), but on a fundamental level, i have to let her go.

it's insane, and heavily materialistic (some might argue) to associate one's self with one's car, but as humans, this is what we do. expensive, flashy, safe, comfortable, out of gas-- there's a little tidbit in all of those that we want to proclaim, deny, hide or defend. but today, for the first time in my life, i signed on the line and put my name on an entire goddamn vehicle. it was terrifying, it was exciting, and it was one of the more bizarre experiences i've ever had to just sign, shake, and drive the car off the lot. really? when do they say "just kidding" and take the keys from my hand?

she's a toyota rav 4. she came with a boatload of surprise features that i was anxious about, but she's a safe, fast, efficient, comfortable car. her name is ramona. i finally have a real car, and as much as my left foot feels betrayed and my shifting hand feels restless, i feel like this is an exciting next step.

the deathtrap days are gone... on with the suit, the map and the open road.

in other news
on the subject of major life changes, i'm going to new york city very soon and i can't wait. jessie, steve, chip & adina (my romanian!), yodapez friends, katey, reunion with dalyn, chandler the documentary guru, the met, cafes, central park, fall, every exterior and interior shot of "you've got mail". the best part-- evil dead is now a MUSICAL, and the first two rows are designated as "splatter zones". the scary part-- i'll have at least one, if not several, "informal" job interviews. i'm nervous for the career part and **completely** excited for the vacation part... things have been so nerve-wracking lately that a trip out east might just be the perfect antidote.

fantastic ending
apparently insomnia is just here to stay... so let's be honest. it's way past
my bedtime, i'm exhausted, and it's become imperative to add this photo.
meg nannies for a house with two cats. one of the cats is kind of normal.
one of the cats has asthma and must be hotboxed with asthma medicine.
can you guess which one has asthma?

to date, not much can crack my shit up as much as this photo. i'm sure that other things can, and will, but for now... this cracks my shit up the most.
poor kitty.
ah, bartleby. ah, humanity. ah, kitty hotbox.