The Guy In The Car

So you’re wondering about the guy in the car?

The guy in the car bought it a little over a year ago because he always wanted one.

His parents never bought him one like some kids at school. He knew better not to ask. 

 

He paid his dad $100 for a beat up ’71 Catalina with a bad vapor lock problem. He got the money working at McDonald’s. 

If his dad were alive to see this car and knew what he paid for it, he’d laugh.

The guy in the car paid more for it than he ever dreamed he would.

He paid an extra $350 for that shade of red. Nice, isn’t it?

He didn’t buy it to get laid, he didn’t buy it to drag race, he didn’t buy it to be popular.

He bought it because he wanted to know what it felt to own one before he was too old to appreciate it.

In the beginning, he visited it every night. Just to look at it. His wife made jokes about tucking it in and wishing it goodnight.

He set up his garage like a car wash bay and spent a good chunk of change on car care supplies.

For a while he was like a kid with a new toy at Christmas. He felt embarrassed by this. But he had to admit, it could be fun.

A year later, it’s just a car with 35 more payments.

 

It’s nice. It drives OK. It did not love him back. Deep down, he knew it wouldn’t, but he had to find out.

He still keeps it as clean as he can with the energy he has. He doesn’t take it to shows. It’s not a GT or collectable and besides, there’s no time and he can’t justify spending the money. 

He’s starting to put lower octane gas in the car.

He’s embarrassed he ever felt ‘that way’ about a machine that gets you from a to b.

The guy you saw in the car drove it to his psychologist today. He felt like shit. No car in the world was going to change that.

The guy in the car felt sad about that. 

He remembered the ’74 Montego he drove in high school – as close as he ever got to this car. He remembered it fondly and all the good times that went with it. 

Now he wonders if he should have bought something more sensible.

After all, he is not the kind of person that drives this kind of car. He is neither badass nor a gear head. He is a pretender. And he feels everyone on the road who sees him knows this. And smirks.

You would never believe the guy in the car could be so unhappy. 

How could anyone driving such a car be depressed?

The guy in the car understands no one can understand.

The guy in the car did not have a good session today.

But when he got home, he washed the car anyway. 

Because he feels he owes it to the car.

Isn’t that crazy?