Pretty Kitty

Farm Boy bought me a new car. This is a YUGE event in our house as we own our cars for decades. My cars always become something like family, with nicknames and personalities, and I find it hard to let them go. So when it clearly was time to trade in the Lexus sedan for something that, you know, drove, I struggled with actually making the decision. My car had been a stalwart and loyal companion and I felt that I was in some way abandoning him in his last days. It reminded me of a little film that I bought when my son was a toddler - The Brave Little Toaster. It was a Parents' Choice Award

Winner! Well, the parents who chose this little horror movie must have been Alec Baldwin and Geena Davis. The first time I watched it with our son, he had nightmares for weeks, and he never again liked the vacuum cleaner. Farm Boy and I used to joke that we should take it out of the closet and put it in his room after he had gone to sleep. AS A JOKE! WE WERE JOKING! We would never do anything like that. We loved our own sleep too much for those kinds of tricks.

Anyway, this movie was terrifying - filled with abandonment and death, and creepy little appliances. But the scene at the end where the cars get "killed" came vividly to mind when I had to leave my car at the dealers lot.

So I sadly, and with no small measure of guilt, left my car to his fate and drove off in my new car.

That should be the end of the story, except most of my stories have something to do with annoying, stupid people, and this is no exception. My new car is a Jaguar, and I do love, love LOVE it. It purrs like a kitten, kittens, and it suits me, I think. However, what has become a sincere struggle since acquiring it is the incredible number of dicks that have suddenly erupted on the highways of California! Despite the fact that this car is white, it is like waving a red flag in front of bulls. Men in everything from trucks to Toyota Corollas are now drag racing me, tailgating me, swerving to pass me. My little kitty brings out the beast in them.

Of course I thought it was just me, because I do have a tendency to give driving lessons to stupid people, but today my even-tempered and speed-limit-following Farm Boy mentioned he felt like he was in a Death Race 2000 outtake every time he drove the Jag. He was getting ready to leave for Southern California to spend a week at the Grand Prix International show jumping in the desert, when I asked if he wanted to drive the new car. "No way. It's too much stress. You can't drive that thing 10 miles without someone trying to kill you just to get around you. Everybody wants to race you."

So, for once in my life, it wasn't just me. The world really had become filled with assholes. And they are probably all voting for Trump.