Russ Camaro started to die on me about a year and a half ago. He'd have a new problem every other month, and the expenses piled up. I decided that when I graduated college, I would say goodbye to my Camaro in exchange for something more reliable. I once pleaded with him, "Every time you give up on me, I want to give up." Well, I had finally given up. When I told Russ Camaro this, he responded, "Antilock Brake System Disabled."
I had an idea that my dad and I might look at cars last weekend, but I didn't know I would fall in love so quickly. There's an unwritten rule in the car-shopping business that you never show your true excitement over a car, for the sake of reaching a good business deal in the future. And me, I never let on throughout the afternoon, not even to my dad. But out of all the cars I drove Friday, none came close to that second car, the Toyota Solara that glided me through the streets as though I were saddled onto a moving cloud. She had to be mine.
The drive home was a treat, surrounded by comfort, style, and that new car smell. When I crossed the Suwannee River, I performed "Old Folks at Home" with new pep. It was at that point, though, that I realized that my car still had no name. I could tell she was a girl (you just know these things). But none of the names that came out quite clicked. Sarah, Vivica, and Jessica Alba are all great names; they just weren't the name of my car.
As soon as class ended Monday, I went driving through Gainesville. I put in some Sinatra, and my car loved it (you just know these things). As "I've Got the World on a String" flowed through the speakers, I escaped my body, saw the scene from the outside, and thought, "I am so money right now." That's when it hit me: Swingers! What was Heather Graham's name in Swingers?
Her name is Lorraine. My car's name is Lorraine. You just know these things.
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