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Stanley I miss Raisin incredibly much today. I was looking at all the pictures from Africa and Foreman's wedding in the last few days and every time I saw a picture of Raisin I thought "I miss Raisin. I�m so disappointed that I didn't get to talk to her for more than 30 seconds at the wedding." She's just so much fun, and I�m so comfortable with her. There�s something reassuring about confiding in someone who loves the outdoors as much or more than I do.Earlier today I discovered a posting for a kinesiology job in Cowtown so I emailed her. She emailed back and, as usual, I could hear her voice while reading what she'd written. She ended with "I hope Stanley is doing well. I said hi to him in the parking lot of Africa's church." This almost made me cry. My reaction is so strong partly because there are too few people in the world that really understand how I feel about my Stanley. Raisin is one of them, Boy is another. Both of them treat Stanley exactly how my friends should treat him, like a beloved pet who is a bit old and a bit slow and a bit patchy, but still fun to play with and you make sure to greet him every time you come to the door. Stanley is my car: a Volvo 245DL station wagon. He�s chocolate brown, boxy and solid, steady and reassuring. He will be 25 next year; he�s as old as my little brother, as old as Raisin and Boy too. Stanley is more than just a way to get around: he�s one of my oldest companions, a staple in my life. He goes everywhere with me, without ever getting bored and leaving without me. He keeps track of my belongings and protects me. Stanley has personality: he doesn�t like the heat (the power locks open themselves when they get too hot), he doesn�t like the extreme cold (he actually screams on cold mornings), and he loathes mornings in general (chug,chug). He�s quirky, with a manual choke and switch overdrive and an idiot prevention ring (this does not mean a condom) to get into reverse. He�s also a part of my personality, my identity even, and has given me more than one nickname. People know me by my Volvo, and know that the easiest way to tick me off is to be rough with my car. Roscoe kicked him once, and felt the wrath of Canoegirl. I like what driving a Volvo says about me: practical, safe, solid. Not racy or flashy but with real staying power. It�s a family car. When a character in a movie drives a Volvo, you know he�s one of the good guys. Stanley wears a sign on his behind that says �I heart my Volvo� and it�s true. My dad loved him and took good care of him, and now I do too. Volvo drivers are Volvo converts for life. One day I�m going to get my dad a bumper sticker that says �My other car is a Volvo�.
2004-08-19 || 9:43 p.m. |
