Decadence

I got home tonight nearing midnight and pulled into the spot next to my old car. Funny how I've come to refer to my once-beloved speed demon as "old." Oh, how new toys change us.

I took her to get detailed today in preparation for the sale, so she looks delightfully sparkly even at night. I can't help but almost envy the eventual buyer, whoever he or she may be; it's a solid car and a hell of a ride.

As I walked away, I glanced back at my two Eclipses side by side--one red and shiny, the other white and shiny--and toyed momentarily with the thought of keeping them both.

One word: Decadence.

And then economic sense and genuine concern kicked in. I mean, how am I supposed to spread my affection--not to mention two car payments and stacked insurance--between two beauts? It's just too draining.

In the coming weeks, people will come and go, look and test drive, and one of them will buy her. It won't be long.

I know you're not supposed to have attachments to material objects, but goddamit I'm not a monk and I've put a lot of time and care into keeping that ride in top shape.

I'll miss her. And you know what? That's OK.