Fatale Abstraction

Back in Baby's Arms...


That was me, or at least how I felt Thursday when I picked up LouLou the Baby Shoe™ from the insurance company. If you recall a few weeks ago I was in a fender-bender on I-30 when some uninsured illegal aliens decided to play bumper cars. Anyway, my insurance company - Progressive - had me bring my car to them and they handed me the keys to a rental car, and they had their people do the repairs.

Anyway, that was a bit of an adventure in and of itself. They made me sign and initial an agreement in triplicate that I wouldn't have animals in the rental, nor would I smoke in it. This baffled me because when the car deodorizer wore off after about 30 minutes, it was obvious that someone had been smoking in this car - smoking heavily.

I'm not a smoking-nazi - I don't say no one should do it - but I resent being forced to sign agreements not to smoke in a vehicle when they clearly have allowed it in the past.

LouLou is a V6 little SUV, but they issued me a V8 Toyota 4Runner. I'd forgotten what that felt like, something a bit more powerful. It was a fun vehicle to drive, but I feel more comfortable in my own. Anyway, after the repairs were completed, we both purred as I climbed in and we pulled away from the pick-up driveway. Back in baby's arms, indeed.

It's really funny, because I know it's not a high-performance vehicle, and probably some (misguided) person would say it's not sexy, but I think LouLou is adorable, suits my needs, and that's all that matters. It's good to have my own wheels back, be-flowered with a fragrance of my own choosing. In fact, whether or not anyone else likes your vehicle, it's a sweet thing to feel you possess your dream car. Until you get bored.