I know what you’re thinking—how could someone whom drove a Ford Pinto in high school be so cruel? Believe me, I never meant things to get this bad. When we brought you home, brand new, six years ago, I was going to treat you right. You were my first new car, and I was thrilled to have you.
And you must admit, the first couple of years were good—regular maintenance and cleanings. But then these two came along.
All I can say is things got really hectic. As much as I want to clean all the paper, wrappers, crumbs and sucker sticks out of you every night, it’s hard to make that a priority when you have these two screaming at you to turn on the computer, or make dinner now.
And speaking of screaming, you should be grateful that their yelling hasn’t caused me to total you. We fixed you up right away after I gouged your side by scraping against a metal pole at a gas station. I bet those 10 days in the body shop was a nice little vacation for you. And that time I backed you out of the driveway and ripped your bumper off by hooking it onto the lawn mower, your friends at the body shop were able to get it back on that same day.
So, yeah, you’ve definitely got some battle scars from being our family car. Plus, I’m sure you’re tired of all our noise. Every time Ethan demands to crank your stereo up when The Offspring’s song, Hammerhead, comes on the radio, must drive you crazy. I miss the days of NPR too, but you just can’t turn back the clock.
No, all you can do is make the best of it. I’m making as many changes as I can. I don’t allow crayons in the car after some of them melted on your upholstery. And when I get the chance, I clean you up proper. Like the other day when I dropped Ethan off at social skills group and James konked out in his car seat. I fed you and bathed you at the gas station. Then while we waited in the parking lot for Ethan to get out of group, I made three trips to the dumpster to unload candy wrappers, sucker sticks and other trash.
You’re so great, I’ll take every chance I get to care for you. The last thing a stressed-out mom like me needs is a car that breaks down all the time, and you haven't done that once. So keep up the great work—things will get better, I promise!