I bought a new vehicle (Charlotte) last year and I have to say that I am totally in love with it. When I slide into that driver’s seat and push the start button there is a moment of magicalness that makes me smile. The heated seat comes on to toast my behind and adjusts itself perfectly. The computer loads my music right where I left off the last time I was in the car. When I put it in reverse the camera comes on in the dash. “Beep! Beep! Be careful. There is something behind you and we wouldn’t want to dent my bumper, now would we?” No we wouldn’t!
Charlotte is a pod of zen, designed just for me.
But then there are times when The Viking drives Charlotte and then it is no longer a pod of Zen, it is the eye of the tornado with a loud, wild-eyed Dane slamming on brakes or punching the gas pedal. The air turns a hazy blue as he instructs other drivers on the proper way to drive…..at the top of his lungs. I am tossed from left to right as he darts around these imbeciles, waving his arms at them as he goes.
To be fair, that is in the city and thankfully he works from home so he doesn’t spend much time on city roads. When he is driving outside the city he’s more relaxed….like a thoroughbred at the start gate, just waiting for someone who will play with him. He glories in the moment a car pulls into the passing lane and draws even with us. There is an evil little chuckle that growls from his throat as he eyeballs the guy in the next lane. There is a moment of complete understanding between them. Then……he drops two gears and hits the gas. I am pushed back in my seat repeatedly as he shifts gears. Here we go again. We leave the guy somewhere behind us and The Viking howls with victory. I am aghast! “You red-lined Charlotte!” I accuse. The Viking shrugs because it’s good for the motor blah, blah, blah, blowing out the carbon, blah, blah, blah.
The Viking has his own vehicle. A truck. A one-ton truck, with dual wheels on the back. Diesel. It’s chipped and no longer has a governor at 160 kph. The exhaust is huge and chrome plated. When The Viking plays on the highways with his truck he is joyous. Her name is Tina. Why? Because it’s black, has bling and has a lot of attitude – just like the woman we named her after. Tina Turner.
Tina is The Viking’s pod of zen – a nasty, obnoxious, heart-pounding pod of zen. And when I drive Tina I become obnoxious too. There is something about having all that horsepower at my fingertips that lulls my better self to sleep so my impatient, insufferable, offensive self can take the wheel. Thankfully, I rarely drive Tina around the city because she’s too massive to fit into most Safeway parking lots. And I am always slightly ashamed of myself for loving the thrills that only Tina can give me. Not that I get thrills from Tina Turner…..that would be totally inappropriate……I meant the truck Tina, but there are plenty of people out there that get/got tons of thrills from her, Tina Turner, not the truck. In a nice way, not a creepy way. Tina Turner is an amazing woman and I only have the highest amount of respect for her and I’m going to stop talking now.