No, I'm not talking about the movie. This is something about me that is not new, but I was reminded of it this week.I get attached to my cars. The "Soul-less White Van" got sick this week and had to be towed. I felt so bad seeing them pull it helplessly onto the tow truck. It's been so loyal and seen us through so much, I just hate to see it not feeling well. As if it had a brain, eh?
As I said, this is not something newly realized. I remember crying like a baby when my dad
traded in the red bug years ago. The little yellow Subaru, after all its service - donated to whoever would take it. The old, rusty Ranger - literally put out to pasture.I'm not sure if there's a psychological name for this phenomenon, but I'm pretty sure it's weird.
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2 comments:
i understand this strangelove, though i might have inherited it ;)
i think naming our cars doesn't help either.
but i guess we come to think of our cars almost as people, because they are reliable and they get us places as we give them gas.
is the souless white van ok? on my ride to and from pcb i rode in a ford explorer, which we looked at when we were car looking... it was nice ;)
My brother-in-law picks up folks' old cars to take them to the crusher, and he recently told me that a lot of people cry when he loads up their cars. So much history!
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