Polly

Polly is my car. My sister gave her to me a couple years ago. She wasn't in the best shape; I doubted how long she would last. But, after giving her a name and spending some real quality time with her, her strange, dull eggplant color seemed to transform into a beautiful purple hue before my eyes: we have forged quite the friendship.

This friendship hasn't come without deep commitment and sacrifice. Every time that her "Service Engine Light" comes on, Boyd works on fixing her up (which has become a pretty normal Saturday ritual). I help out too. I even spent an afternoon in a junkyard for Polly - climbing in and out of old cars to try to find a good replacement part for her. It was dirty and grimy, and plus, the male workers kept following me around, asking if I needed help.

We have been through a lot, Polly and Boyd and I. When we drove from California, she started getting too hot - we eventually had to break in Vegas and walk through the mall in our sweats, to give her time to cool down. (I think maybe she just wanted to see the lights of Vegas for once)

Another time, I got pulled over twice in two days, because of registration problems.. or lack of registration, more like it. But I ended up getting off the hook both time, probably due to good looks. Polly's, not mine.

And recently, Polly decided she had enough of my family, I guess, because she refused to start when we were planning to go meet up for dessert. :/ But, she started working the next day again, so no hard feelings.

So, needless to say, Polly is the greatest. When I think about getting rid of her to buy another car, I can't bear the thought! How could I ever feel confident on the road again without my beloved sidekick?