A girl and her car (and still a better love story than Twilight)

This is my Ninja Babe (derived from letter combinations in the VIN). She was my first car. We've been through a lot together in eight years. We've been throughout Washington and Oregon together. She's seen home and employment changes, snow and ice storms, trips to the vet (cats), lots of time at various human medical facilities, and now even has a kid who tells his auntie when it's time to clean her car. We've participated in fashion and burlesque shows. She even broke down on me in the middle of the night, in melting snow, in a small town off a back road highway. She's been broken into, hit by unknown assailants in parking lots, rear ended by over-eager people in drive-thrus, and vandalized with messages and mashed potatoes. Bitch even burned me.

Waiting for a tow truck when it's been snowing is a bitch.

I still don't know.

\m/

College kids threw mashed potatoes on my car.

From the radiator. Because I apparently AM capable of being a dumbass.

An amazing child who has given my life new meaning. <3

We've had our bad times. She was there when dire circumstances forced me to give up some of my cats. She's taken me to the hospital when only morphine would help. She's seen some of the rockiest points in my marriage. And I have a love/hate relationship with her. She's 23. This means parts aren't as easy or cheap to come by. Especially since she's a BMW. She requires repairs and maintenance more often than her newer counterparts. But I love my M3 taillights, my aftermarket headlights, and my Magnaflow. And I love how even with everything that's wrong with her, she's still there for me. She just keeps on going.

And that's what brings me to the reason why I'm writing this. After all, I'm pretty sure no one really cares about my car nearly as much as I do. But look at her. She's worn, chipped, rusted, falling apart. Parts of her are MacGuyvered (like the screwdriver in my battery). I have three different rims. One of my front blinkers is held in place with a Toothless bandaid and duct tape. My interior is destroyed. But these are things that I've discovered that I love about her.

I've heard that cars--like pets--tend to have the personality traits of their owners. Look at me. I'm a mess. I have an incurable chronic illness that requires lots of medical attention. I have chronic pain in my nerves and joints that is continuing to worsen. I've had two surgeries, and will have more. At 32, I'm worn out, busted, broken, falling apart. Yet I just keep going. Ninja Babe and I are one and the same. I will be incredibly emotional when we finally part. My husband likes to say that she's his car, I'm just the only one who can legally drive her. But I'd have to say that she is definitely MY car (even if the disabled veteran plates are his!).