So Lucy & I Had This Tiff. . .

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After an extended stay at a Holiday Inn, Lucy and I took to the streets for our next adventure, which isn’t really that adventurous at all. We got a house-sitting gig that will fill the gas tank up a few more times, give me some time to work on my book, and create an ART (After the Road Trip) plan.

This morning, we’re squirreled away in a Midwest location. Lucy is resting up in a nice, cool garage and I’m having a free Continental breakfast that won’t incur the wrath of the Inn’s black-shirted egg guards.

Lucy and I are at something of a stand off after yesterday’s long drive, though. She’s still speaking to me, but barely, and there’s a chill to her leather seats that feels like disenchantment.

Our road trip here started off well enough.  The Michigan sky was bright and cloudless and traffic was light, even through the construction zones.  Lucy had her sunroof open and was cranking out happy music from XM’s Soultown radio station.

“This is Aretha Franklin, and you’re listening to Soouull-Town”. Lucy didn’t seem to mind when I parroted the promo phrase and then sang along with Smoky Robinson’s Tears of a Clown. She seemed content to be gliding along I-75, her V6 engine purring as she passed lesser, slower cars. My 2010 Chevy Malibu has really turned out to be quite the ride — she’s solid, stylish, and exceptionally comfortable.

To show my appreciation, I pulled off at an exit to take Lucy to a car wash. I bought her the full service treatment, including vacuuming, dashboard dusting, and a light spray of new car scent. She seemed to like the attention she got from the teenage girls who were making her shine. They ooh-ed and ahh-ed over her dual DVD players, leather seats, and Bose sound system. I let them change the station to hip-hop while they worked, and I sat on a nearby bench scribbling things that felt urgent on the back of a hotel receipt. After I wrote those things down, they didn’t feel urgent at all anymore, just jumbled, so I crumpled the paper and threw it in the trash along with an empty coffee cup.

When the girls were done with Lucy, I threw a tip into their jar and set the station to Bluesville, B.B. King’s XM station. I made my way to Starbucks for a fresh cup of coffee, and then returned to the highway. I wasn’t really paying that much attention to Lucy. I was lost in my own thoughts and wondering if what I’d written on the hotel receipt would ever make sense to anyone, including me.

Somewhere between Etta James telling me not to lose my good thing and Otis Redding and Carla Thomas battling over whether he was a tramp or a lover, I noticed that Lucy was giving me the cold shoulder.

“Is the air conditioning too high? Here, I’ll turn it down.”  I turned the air off, but Lucy remained tight-lipped, keeping her headlights firmly on the road.  I checked my gauges – the cruise control was set to the speed limit, the gas tank was full, the tires were properly inflated, I was getting an average of 24.8 miles to the gallon, and the temp was normal.

“Well, what is it?” I asked. “Would you just tell me so I don’t have to guess?”

“Oh, I think you know,” she said after a chilly pause.

“I really don’t,” I begged. “Would you at least give me a clue?”

“Okay, here’s one. Check your odometer. Do you see how many miles you’ve put on me?”

“Sure. . .it hasn’t been that many.”

“And you don’t see the problem with that?”

“What? No. I’d think you’d be happy. . .”.

“Happy? Happy??? You took the Camaros all over California! You took the Equinox to the Oregon coast and to Moab, Utah! And let’s not even talk about where you took the Buick LaCrosse, the Silverado, and then the Cadillac CTS – oh, let’s not even talk about how many miles you put on the precious Cadillac!”

“Oh my god, Lucy. . .you mean you’re jealous?”

“I mean you disappointment me, Jane Devin! We were supposed to go places together! I was supposed to see the ocean in Maine and the monuments in Washington, DC.  Remember all those plans you had for upstate New York and New Hamphshire?”

“I’m sorry, Luce. It’s not personal – you’re a great car, truly, one of the most comfortable and beautifully economical I’ve driven. It’s just that, well, life sometimes has a way of interfering with other plans. I’ve got to find a way to earn some money. I’ve got books that are ready to write. And I really don’t know what I’m going to do when this road trip ends, but I know that I don’t have much time left to figure everything out.”

“You were supposed to take me to the ocean, Jane.”

“I know, Lucy, and I’m sorry. I don’t know what else I can say.”

“You were going to be my ticket out of the media fleet for awhile. You know how rough some of those guys are with cars, don’t you? They don’t keep Armor-All wipes in the glove compartment. They’ve been known to leave mud on my carpets and crumbs on my seats.”

“I’m sorry, Lucy. We’ll have each other until August 9^th though, and I promise I’ll take you to a couple of really great places before than – places I never took the Cadillac.”

“Hmmph.”

“No, seriously, I will. And I’ll take some really great photos that will show off your awesome interior as well as your solidly designed exterior. You’ll be the envy of Ford Fusion owners everywhere.”

“And Honda Civic owners, and Toyota Camry owners?”

“Of course, them too. What do you say? You want to make some memories together?”

“But first a week in a garage?”

“Actually, about ten days. . .”.

“You never parked the Cadillac for longer than a day.”

“I spilled coffee in the Cadillac. Did I ever tell you that? And when I handed her in, there was a bit of a bird mess on her front window. I’d never let that happen to you, Luce.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Despite my best efforts to assure her that her tires would soon be rolling down another long stretch of interstate, Lucy remains disappointed. She really wanted to climb the winding roads of the Maine coastline. So did I, but a ten-month long adventure is better than no adventure at all, and I’m happy to be able to make it as long as August. The Finding My America road trip will end then, but the rest of the story will be just beginning.

Tagged as: 2010 Chevy Malibu, Road Trip Stories