I used to wash my car weekly. By hand. I waxed it often. Now I don't remember the last time it was clean. There is, quite literally, junk in the trunk that has been there for two years. It needs repairs to a fender bender that happened probably a year ago. I missed a recall on the clear coat on the roof and now it is peeling.
At my first Austin apartment I paid extra each month to have a garage. Nothing could get to my baby. I took it to Boston with me and paid what some pay for an apartment to put it in a parking spot and later a parking garage (granted "free" parking would have cost about the same because I'd have had to register it and pay an exorbitant excise tax). I'll say that after the Redsox won and students were burning cars in the streets a block from my apartment I felt like I'd made a wise choice.
Now I only drive her when I come to Starbucks a few times a month to write. The Si badge is missing from the front after a run-in with a hog. She has thousands of coats of dust from our gravel road. The grass in the middle of our driveway rubs along the bumpers and undercarriage.
I don't think we've vacuumed Beast. Ever. You can't take it through a carwash because the seals are twenty two years old. We drive around with a club size box of Rotella in the back. Wax? Forget about it.
So what happened? Two children happened. Sorry cars, I have real babies now. My plans of getting a Stingray and a motorcycle aren't even on the back burner. I don't know if they'll ever be gone ... let's face it, Shelby can identified a Corvette and she calls all of them mommy's Corvette. That's right sweet girl.
Several years ago now I said I was going to get Tim into autocrossing. Well, I figure it's been almost a decade since I raced regularly. Sad realization as that may be, I would like to at least introduce the girls to the sport before we set them off on their own. If nothing else than to help them be better drivers.
It's funny how your priorities change. And I am so thankful they have. As much as I love the rush of adrenaline of hitting apexes, hitting that sweet spot just before the traction lets go ... those things will always raise my heart rate.
But nothing will ever fill my heart up the way being a wife and mom does. Even if I never slide behind the wheel of my very own piece of American muscle ... I can say that my life has been full.
Thank you Lord for blessing my life and not giving me what I thought I wanted 10 years ago.