Goodbyes

So I drive a Ford Focus. It's a good car; I like it. It's nice to have a car at all. But I used to drive a Hyundai Tiberon, and the transition has been a bit hard. It's funny about the Tiberon though. I'm not really into cars. At all. I grew up in trucks and jeeps, and basically, if it could get me where I needed to go, it was good to me. I was very biased, however, against people in sports cars. I thought they were a ridiculous waste of money, and drivers of sports cars came with a very high ego. So when I would see them rev at lights, or hear them zoom past with music blaring, I always glared and judged whoever was in it.

Well it was quite the transition when I came into possession of a very "sporty" car, which had had lots of work done on it by my brother to make it "hot", like huge speakers that filled up the trunk and gave plenty of base, and specialized wheel thingys. There were even flames on the pedals. I resented "Tibby" for a while; I was embarrassed when I parked her at BYU, with her sticker on the back that had Calvin peeing on a Honda. I drove her very tentatively, not knowing her true potential.

But then I got to know Tibby. We went on some nice trips together, and I realized how awesome she was. I do have a bad habit of listening to music loudly, and though I've never listened to the basey, rap songs or whatever, I did enjoy feeling the base in my songs instead of just hearing it. I took Tibby through some canyons, and I think it was there that I really fell in love. I realized there are no speed limits in canyons; only what your car can handle. And I was proud to find Tibby can handle quite a bit.

It came on slowly, but eventually I realized that I was that person I hated, blaring music, revving the engine, looking down on slower cars. I never actually raced anyone at a red light, in the sense that didn't look at them and acknowledge that I was racing; I just beat everyone around me every time the light turned green. I scoffed at anyone trying to pass me on the freeway, cut corners as fast as possible, and cranked the gears as only a conservative white girl with an attitude can do. I watched my brothers drive Tibby, and realized a bit more all she was capable of. So I developed this alter-ego, and I felt it every time I got in my car. I tried to stop it sometimes, realizing it was silly, but I became powerless to the coolness that was the Tiberon.

Well, when my brother told me he wanted her back, and that he'd trade the boring, reliable Focus for her, it was quite a shock. Feelings of jealousy and possession surged through me, although I knew all along that Tibby hadn't really been mine, and that my brother loved her a lot more than I did, loved her for being just what she was. I also knew it would be a chance to escape the trap I had fallen into. The Focus has 4 doors and a large trunk, making it much more sensible for my stage in life. It doesn't have any embarrassing stickers on it or funky designs. It's me. Or the old me. So I traded. And I like my new car. One problem with it is it doesn't have a name yet. I'm so bad at deciding on names, especially vitally important ones like your cars' name. There's nothing obvious that comes to mind. My brother threw out the name "the grey fox", and my roommate had some ridiculous suggestions that resulted in a compromise: whatever the first name is, the suffix will be "a.k.a. horn powder." After all the other crazy things she said, she kept coming back to this ludicrous name, so I decided it needed to be used. But really, I'm sure there's something out there. Epita, pingo, pele...I'm stuggling here. If anyone has any suggestions, please help a sista out.

Got off track though. So here's the thing I noticed the other day, while driving ...a.k.a. horn powder. I thought that when I watched my brother drive away in Tibby that she was gone, that I'd moved on. But turns out I haven't managed to let her go yet. Habits die hard, and I got used to the way things were with Tibby. So although the focus doesn't have an amazing stereo system, I still blast my music as I cruise around town. And while the tires and car are just not made for speedy turns and curves, I zip around the streets of Provo and send all the stuff in my car flying to the side every time I make a turn. I accelerate as fast as possible, and am inevitably disappointed when this new car fails to live up to Tibby's performance capabilities. I'm trying to force my good car into something it's not, and hurting both of us in the process. I'm probably going to need new tires soon from the way I drive this thing. And I'm sure I just look ridiculous, driving around all cool-like in this ford of mine. So I guess I realized it was time for a change in thinking; time to accept the reality that Tibby is gone and things are different in my new car-and that's okay. That crazy alter-ego me needed to die anyway; it wasn't what I really wanted in the first place. Now is a time to redefine myself and my expectations and attitudes, and it's the perfect time in life to do it. I guess it just takes some getting used to.

So goodbye Tibby. Here's to letting go.