Today I drive into Indianapolis, get rid of my lovely rental car, check into the hotel, and then attend the SinC into Great Writing event featuring literary agent Donald Maass, Nancy Pickard, Hallie Ephron, and Chris Roerden. The Donald Maass workshop will focus on the novels-in-progress of the attendees. I have my WIP with me, so I'm looking forward to great writing tips and a burst of writing energy.
But here's why I've decided to talk about cars this morning. I hate to give up the rental I had on this trip. It's a nearly new, black Pontiac something or other, sits low, looks sporty, and makes me feel lots younger than I really am. It might remind me of the dark blue Firebird I owned (and loved) for a couple of years in the early 80s.
The first car I ever owned, however, was a blue Dodge Lancer with peeling paint. When the weather got very cold, it wouldn't start unless I opened the hood and used my rattail comb to prop open the little thingie in the whatchamacallit, get behind the wheel and start the car, then retrieve my comb and close the hood. It worked 95% of the time. I thank a nice man with a tow truck for showing me that trick and saving me a ton of money during an extra cold Oklahoma City winter.
I'm not sure why we form these attachments to our cars, especially the cool ones, but there it is. Do you have a story to tell about your first and/or favorite car?