2007 3-Series BMW Coupe – Photo-Artistry by kenne
September 23, 2013
AUTOMOLOVE
A few weeks ago,
while hiking on Mt. Lemmon,
someone backed into my car
just as I was returning
to the ski-lift parking lot.
I didn’t see it happen,
but most of my hiking friends did
and began shouting:
“Someone just backed into your car!”
“What? Not my car,” I thought.
While trying to keep my composure,
I sought to exchange information.
The damage was not that obvious,
so she was ready to leave — no way!
Four weeks later, after back and forth
with her insurance company,
they agreed to do the repair,
right, all $1,600 worth.
My car is now home,
in the garage, looking like new.
This was only my third experience
with having body shop work:
once in the sixties on my 1963 VW,
then in the nineties on my 1984 BMW,
now in the twenty-teens.
Each minor, but each traumatic —
I don’t take easy to being
outside my level of perfection.
Believe me, it wasn’t easy
also being a dirt-bike owner!
What is it about guys and cars?
At least some guys and cars.
I’m one of those “car guys” –
one of the best feelings
I know is having a clean car,
not from a car wash –
You have to do it yourself.
It’s an expression of caring
that strengthens the bond —
like petting your cat, it purrs.
For me, the attraction started
when I first rode in Granddad’s Chevy.
It was the smell, the dashboard, and the look.
It was so clean, inside and out –
he was an original
“inny and outy” guy.
He didn’t have a garage on the farm,
but when they moved to town,
he converted the old smokehouse
Into a dirt-floor garage.
What I remember most was
the understated body language
from Granddad toward his car.
If you know the look,
then you know what I mean.
It was pride, some call it “car pride” —
a symbol of what has been nurtured
In our hopes and aspirations,
which we express with gentle gratitude
as we travel the highways of life.
My car is a means of transportation
as was the horse in its day.
The words of Shakespeare still apply
to best express the bond
between me and my car:
“When I bestride him,
I soar, I am a hawk.
He trots the air,
The earth sings
when he touches it.”
kenne
