Sunday, September 10, 2006

End of Passion

Lori and I were washing our cars today. Unlike Southern California, there's a serious lack of full service car washes up here. And so the ones that do exist are outrageously priced and not located nearby. Perhaps the rain?

So our cars stay dirtier and don't get the love they used to. Well I was washing my car today and noticed some rather unpleasant scratches on the back door, down towards the bottom. All the way to the metal. I can't imagine what from, maybe a tricycle, maybe some strong bushes, maybe a curb? I'm not quite sure.

Ok, granted, my car isn't perfect. Ever since the paint incident, it's not been a perfect car. But it's 7-1/2 years old, has 53,000 and has been a rather exceptional and reliable car. If not for the seat that fell down and I fixed myself for 50 cents months before they realized there was a problem and recalled them all. Or the window that won't roll up without getting out of its track. Otherwise, I've been pretty happy with the car.

But I look at the scratches and all I can say is "Wow! Look at these scratches." Lori comes over and is at least a little better in saying "That sucks."

But is this what it's come to? Sure, it's an object. Most of the world doesn't have a car and we have two, so should I be lamenting minor damage? Or is that all the more reason? I'm fortunate enough to have a car and so shouldn't I be upset when it gets damaged? I think most people would side with Lori and suggest not seething is actually the correct response.

But I find that hard to accept. This is my car. The biggest, most expensive object I've ever owned. (The bank or my dad owns the house, I'm not sure.) So I should take care of it and be upset when it's been damaged. Where is the passion? Where is the emotion? Should I not be upset, and shouldn't it just be expected?

But all I could do was sigh and think that maybe someday I'll get around to attacking the scratches with a sharpie.
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