Happy "creation day" to Jake

Today Jake, my "weekend" car, is 8 years young. He (and I) both passed our big 4-0 this year (his in mileage, mine in years). I like the idea of my having Jake around in 10 ... 15 ... 20 years. What I really like is that, save for Matt (of "Karin and Matt") and various valets, I am the only person who has driven him ... and that's on purpose.

I am the youngest child in my family, so hand-me-downs were a way of life when I was growing up. Just because we didn't HAVE to use coupons and shop sales and such doesn't mean we didn't. In fact, my most favorite bike EVER was a mishmash of the pieces of many other bikes - purple frame, bright yellow knobby tires, blue banana seat ... oh yeah, it was a sexy beast.

Jake was my first brand new car ever. (Thus far, he's my only brand new car.) I purchased him during the silly-con dot.com days of way too much money and fun ways to blow it years. I remember the first time I saw a Miata on paper. It was an ad in a magazine and I was working with another secretary in a large company. I pulled the page out and taped the ad directly above my Mac SE-30 (which should tell you how long ago this was) and thought to myself "someday". Now keep in mind - at the time, there were Corvettes and Jags and far fancier cars around. But there was just nothing on the market that struck me like the looks of this car. It was pure and true and fresh and cute but gutsy.

My favorite Aunt, "E", had a lil' green sportscar for quite awhile when I was just a kid. And she was - hands down - cool. She was single, had a great apartment, a job that allowed her afternoons off, an adorable cat, this beautiful car, and was always smiling. When she'd visit my folks for dinner or just to hang out, my sister and I would even get along with each other. As an adult, I realized that "E" was also seriously lonely, and had a string of unsuccessful relationships and got her heart crushed over and over by men who wanted her to be something she wasn't cut out to be. I knew I didn't want her job, that I could never duplicate her apartment, could likely get my own adorable cat but I wanted that car.

Instead, I got a Chevy BelAir. Then a VW Bug. Then a VW Rabbit. Another VW Rabbit. A third VW Rabbit. ("Kill the Rabbit" became a popular song in my house.) A Ford Ranger. A Chevy S-10. A Mazda Protege. All (save for the Protege) were hand-me-down cars. Most were from a firefighter connection through my father. The Protege was purchased used from a Mazda dealership where I spent about 10 minutes staring at the Miatas on the showroom floor, telling myself "what the hell - go for it" before I wised up and did the intelligent thing.

A few years later, when I decided that the intelligent thing was to buy my dream car, I went to the dealership armed with more years of knowledge on this make of vehicle than any of the salespeople had. A woman buying a sports car shouldn't be all that unusual, but I was still put off by one thing. During the freeway test-drive, the salesman pointed out that the passenger-side airbag could be turned off to allow for a child car seat. I glanced over at him, and I saw that he was seriously telling me this - as 'tho this were a minivan. I turned and looked at him full in the face. "Oh yeah - I could see this as being a GREAT car for the baby-on-board set."

Since that time, save for one issue with his gas tank, Jake has been no hastle. Sure, there've been a few bulb replacements here and there, but he has been a care-free, happy part of my adulthood. And he makes me smile. Alot. Which may explain my favorite Aunt's sunny disposition, too.