Young Love is Slippery in Winter

I really loved her, really, so much. I guess it was too much or maybe it wasn't enough. I don't know what I could've done. What could I have done? I should have paid more attention. We shouldn't have moved so fast. I should have protected her from herself and from myself and...

My first love was just like me.  My ancestors came to this country from Caucasia.  She was also white.  We were even born at the same time, though not in the same place.  I was born in the oxygen deprived, drought ridden mile-high city. She rocked, I mean she had to,she was from Detroit.  It was fate when we met, my dad introduced us one Sunday after church. It was a few days before my birthday that September. She made it a happy birthday. It certainly wasn't for her looks, for she was damaged.  I didn’t care though, she was perfect, her imperfections only added to the intrigue.  With no sense of speed, I had to pay attention to her movement all the more. She was only with one other guy before me, perfect for a first timer like I was then.

    It wasn’t always easy, because she was so awkward in public.  It took a lot of strength to steer her around and without a keen eye and fine finesse, parallel parking was an impossibility.  She always liked to be parked in the light though, so people could see her beauty.  Jealousy ensnared me when others dared to park close to her, or mess with her love-ly handles.  There was this jackass once who tried to get inside her.  I almost killed the bastard for tryin' to steal my love.

    There is no perfect relationship and we had many problems of our own.  There were  times when she ran out of fuel and I had to push her all the way to the station.  Once the fuel spilled all over the trunk and she “had gas” for weeks.  I drove her in the dead of winter with all the windows down, freezing like the falling snow.  Our main problem was moving to fast and our friends in blue would often give us nasty notes reminding us to take it slow.  Despite those obstacles, we weathered on through the hard times and finally made it through that cold Colorado winter, slipping and sliding on black ice, white ice and the rare red ice.  And when that winter of a hundred days finally ended, after all we’d been through, she was gone.  No note, or warning at all.  The void she left in my heart was almost as big as her whole body. 

         The days are long now.  And staring at the stars, I know that we will be together soon, for all cars go to heaven...



...no wait, thats dogs.  Shit!