I can’t get rid of my old, faithful 2009 Chevy Suburban. I bought it used over a decade ago. Early on, I lost it in a big parking lot, so I got a cheap new paint job. I chose the most unique shade of blue imaginable so it would stick out from other vehicles in all circumstances.
It only took me a few days after that to fall in love with the car. I pretend my Suburban has a brain and a heart. I named it Blue, for obvious reasons. In frigid weather, when I leave a restaurant or store, I call out, “Come, Blue!” as if my Suburban will fire up and rush to the door. It doesn’t, of course. Adults think I’m a little loco, but kids keep waiting to see if Blue will hustle to me.
I’ve been in the little town of Carson City for nearly 30 years. Lots of town folks know me, and most of them like me – I think. I don’t lock Blue up when I go to the grocery store or shopping mall. Often, when I return to Blue, a friend – or even a whole family – will be sitting inside, waiting to say hello. Blue likes it. And so do I.
I’m confident Blue will stay with me until I drop dead. And who knows? Shortly thereafter, I’ll shout out, “Come, Blue!” and my faithful Suburban will whisk me away to a fantastic destination.