"A Relationship Runs Out of Gas."

Man's love affair with the car is dead. Reaching it's pinnacle in the 1950's & 1960's, American homo sapiens fell in love with the automobile. Curvy and fast, warm and responsive, the automobile became the natural object of man's affection. Men, women, and children alike, couldn't resist sliding a hand along her body or nuzzling close to her accepting seat.

That's the past. Finito. Gone are these romantic days spent twisting and turning in the breeze. Somewhere on the road of life, mankind lost his love for his car.

Maybe we can blame it on society. To the degradation of fidelity, man now brings home a second car, driving her, pampering her, throttling her, right in front of the first. At one time excessive, now this is accepted, even expected. Today, the virtue of dedicating oneself to the just one car is considered, quaint or passe'.

In a time of old, husbands, wives, and cruising teens alike, beamed with pride in traffic, smiling to be seen, hand in wheel, with their one, true love. Today, though, at traffic lights throughout this brazen nation, mankind laments his car, letting his eye stray to the european model with her glossy paint job and convertible top, allowing his mind to wonder what it would be like to be with "her."

Every day, wives flop groceries in their mini vans, teens drop cigarette butts to floorboard, never giving credit for loyalty and dependability, only lusting for the newest and most attractive edition on the market. "To love, cherish and wax, til trade-in do we depart." Are these words just empty?

Familiarity breeds contempt. This could be the problem with man's love affair with the car. Day after day, spending all that time together on the expressway in traffic. On the jaunts to take the kids to practice. Who doesn't get in a rut? Who doesn't get tired of the same old habits all the time?

We can all remember when we first got her. We would drive fast almost every day. Then it became maybe 2 or 3 times a week. Now, we're lucky if we do it once a month. And the sad part is, we don't even miss it that much.

Is there hope? Besides a few features in "Road & Track" magazine on how to "breath life into your dull, driving routine," there is little out there keeping this love affair alive.

Doing time on I-75 seems to be a mantra of many today. Sure, you added a sexy cell phone to the package, but how long did that thrill you? You begged and begged and finally got the CD player installed. But did that make you happy? The indignity of altering her, trying to make her something "better." You should be ashamed. We all should be ashamed.

It's what's inside that counts. So, she has some wear. So, she has a few nicks and dents she didnt' have when you got her. She's still the same car. We need to think back why we bought her in the first place. Maybe she doesn't have the flash or all the fancy plastic the new models are adding on every day. But, she's mine oh, mine and she's yours oh, yours.

It's time to grow up, to quit acting like a monkey drooling over a shiny piece of glass. Let's all breath some life back into our love affair with the car. After all, it rarely the destination that matters, but the trip on the way there.

Billy Murphy - 5/19/97