Car Troubles?

Rain has a very strong, earthy scent to me. Sometimes it smells like how a headache feels. And for reasons unknown to me, it always draws me back to my first car, a Jeep Cherokee, which was the love of my life, even though it had about 6,000 problems with it. 

That car is what my mother would call a "hoopdie" which is slang for a car that is basically just a hunk of junk on wheels. But it was mine and I loved it dearly. I didn't do many favors for it either. Between scratching it on a fence, having the radiator bust, and having the brakes completely break, I wasn't exactly the most gentle caregiver. But it did the job and got me to and from school. And I miss driving it around town. It was no pride of mine, but simply my second home. I kept second pairs of shoes and various other clothing options just in case I was situation that called for a quick change of clothing, you know, like a superhero. 

I loved driving it. But I did not like driving other people around in it. It made a lot of noises that I was able to tune out but often scared my passengers. They'd be like, "is your car supposed to make that sound?" And I'd have to reassure them that even though it sounded like animals were clawing their way through the inside of my car, it was just the engine doing it's thang. Nothing to worry about. 

I miss my car now that I'm stuck here without one. When I was sad or needed to think, I would often jump in my car and go for drives. Maybe I'd even cry in the car. It was just nice to have alone time, and I loved being able to dictate where I was going to go. Here, I can't go more than a few miles on foot. And forget about public transportation. I don't just want to be moving, I want to be doing the moving. You know, if that makes sense to you. 

Another thing I didn't realize I would miss until I couldn't do it anymore is singing in the car. I really miss belting out hardcore in the car. I sounded good. At least I thought I did. Jamming out to 98.7 or 100.3 Jack FM (playing what YOU want), oh those were the good days. Now anytime I want to sing, I have to make sure my roommate is gone. I also make sure my door is shut and locked, and I still don't even sing that loud. Sorry about it, but I'm super embarrassed by my singing. 

I don't miss traffic, and I don't miss commuting across town to try and hop from my mom's house to my dad's house. I don't miss stressful drives in the morning or long drives at night when all I want more than anything is to be home and NOT IN THE CAR.

But there's a reason why parents put their babies in the car to try and lull them to sleep. There's a reason it works. Being in the car is peaceful man, and right now, I'm counting down the days until I'm back in my hoopdie, praying that it would break down, and rocking out to oldies on the radio.