Travel Companion
My pile shakes as I hit eighty on the open road
This is an open road song
- Eve 6, "Open Road Song"
It started almost three years ago. With graduation around the corner, I had been eyeing cars more eagerly -- my Flying Jeep wouldn't survive much longer and I was pretty sure I'd have a steady paycheck some time soon. Fusions had caught me right from my first pass through the Ford lot in Sioux Falls; even now I can tell you it was because of the headlights. (Odd but true. I wouldn't lie about such things.) When I found out they easily came with manual transmissions I was sold and soon the search began in earnest.
The following June, after questioning three dealerships in two states, it ended with a find in Milwaukee. This car had everything I wanted and none of the things I was avoiding -- it was a manual, got the expected mileage, had an upgraded (but not crazy) stereo system, no antilock brakes, no random features (like GPS). It was perfect.
Twenty-seven months ago today I made the biggest purchase of my adult life thus far and signed for a brand new blue Ford Fusion. She was a 4-cylinder manual transmission with a whopping 308 miles on her and she was mine.
Within minutes of driving off the lot, I had named her Sophie. People tease me for naming my vehicles (the Contour my sister and I drove was named Isabella, courtesy of Mia Sorella; the Flying Jeep was Lou after a realization that Lou was the perfect nerd name) but this car had attitude from the beginning. It was a Sophie. Plain and simple.
The day after I bought her we went for a drive. It was a meandering drive, the kind you take when you're trying to get comfortable. She shifted a little more sharply than Isabella did; she also accelerated faster and stopped more abruptly. This car was new, sure, but she had some serious get-up-and-go besides. I was enthralled.
With the following week came the first real test -- I was westward bound. Five days and twenty-six hours of driving later I knew that this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Now, after two years and 40,000 miles, Sophie is my favorite travel companion. I've always enjoyed driving; with this car, a 500-mile jaunt is easy. City driving is easy. Traffic jams aren't bad. Long stretches of nothingness aren't nearly as boring.
Yes, I talk to my car. As do most people who also name their cars. She's the best listener on those long stretches.
I try not to spoil her -- I'm not someone who always has a sparkly clean car (I can't be if I visit my parents), and I don't freak out over every door ding. She's tough; she can take the normal abuse. But she's still my first brand new car -- so if things go wrong I get them fixed quickly, and if it's time for an oil change she gets one right away. That's just how it's going to be.
Our next big trip is coming up quickly and Sophie's almost ready. She's cleaner than she's been in weeks. Everything in the trunk is organized and I've made space for the bags and boxes I'll be hauling along. Morty the Traveling Platypus is firmly in place (right where he can scare any passenger I might have that decides to use the visor). I have the cords and cables for my cell phone charger, mp3 player, and various adapters appropriately stowed. I have easy access to my jumper cables, spare tire, and a couple quarts of oil -- just in case.
We're ready for this. We're even ready for the 25+ hours of alone time we'll have.
It's gonna be a good run.
This is an open road song
- Eve 6, "Open Road Song"
It started almost three years ago. With graduation around the corner, I had been eyeing cars more eagerly -- my Flying Jeep wouldn't survive much longer and I was pretty sure I'd have a steady paycheck some time soon. Fusions had caught me right from my first pass through the Ford lot in Sioux Falls; even now I can tell you it was because of the headlights. (Odd but true. I wouldn't lie about such things.) When I found out they easily came with manual transmissions I was sold and soon the search began in earnest.
The following June, after questioning three dealerships in two states, it ended with a find in Milwaukee. This car had everything I wanted and none of the things I was avoiding -- it was a manual, got the expected mileage, had an upgraded (but not crazy) stereo system, no antilock brakes, no random features (like GPS). It was perfect.
Twenty-seven months ago today I made the biggest purchase of my adult life thus far and signed for a brand new blue Ford Fusion. She was a 4-cylinder manual transmission with a whopping 308 miles on her and she was mine.
Within minutes of driving off the lot, I had named her Sophie. People tease me for naming my vehicles (the Contour my sister and I drove was named Isabella, courtesy of Mia Sorella; the Flying Jeep was Lou after a realization that Lou was the perfect nerd name) but this car had attitude from the beginning. It was a Sophie. Plain and simple.
The day after I bought her we went for a drive. It was a meandering drive, the kind you take when you're trying to get comfortable. She shifted a little more sharply than Isabella did; she also accelerated faster and stopped more abruptly. This car was new, sure, but she had some serious get-up-and-go besides. I was enthralled.
With the following week came the first real test -- I was westward bound. Five days and twenty-six hours of driving later I knew that this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Now, after two years and 40,000 miles, Sophie is my favorite travel companion. I've always enjoyed driving; with this car, a 500-mile jaunt is easy. City driving is easy. Traffic jams aren't bad. Long stretches of nothingness aren't nearly as boring.
Yes, I talk to my car. As do most people who also name their cars. She's the best listener on those long stretches.
I try not to spoil her -- I'm not someone who always has a sparkly clean car (I can't be if I visit my parents), and I don't freak out over every door ding. She's tough; she can take the normal abuse. But she's still my first brand new car -- so if things go wrong I get them fixed quickly, and if it's time for an oil change she gets one right away. That's just how it's going to be.
Our next big trip is coming up quickly and Sophie's almost ready. She's cleaner than she's been in weeks. Everything in the trunk is organized and I've made space for the bags and boxes I'll be hauling along. Morty the Traveling Platypus is firmly in place (right where he can scare any passenger I might have that decides to use the visor). I have the cords and cables for my cell phone charger, mp3 player, and various adapters appropriately stowed. I have easy access to my jumper cables, spare tire, and a couple quarts of oil -- just in case.
We're ready for this. We're even ready for the 25+ hours of alone time we'll have.
It's gonna be a good run.
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