Awhile ago, my son very lovingly and very randomly named our 2001 Isuzu Rodeo, “Blade”. This made me laugh hysterically when Ben first came up with this name because our car is so NOT a Blade. He couldn’t be further from a Blade. Harry or Rudy, perhaps, but not Blade. Blade to me is like a sleek black bitchin’ Camero. Not a tomato red SUV. But Blade he is.
We LOVE Blade. In fact throughout this past brutal winter, Blade has gotten Ben and I through some pretty bad weather. After one really tricky snowy afternoon, when I pulled old Blade into his stall in our garage, Ben literally got out of the car and hugged him. My son hugged the car. Yes, I am fully aware that this child needs a pet. And soon!

Blade and I have an understanding. After 6 years together he knows I don’t like to wear my seat belt and he doesn’t say anything about the matter. He just shines his little seatbelt light in hopes that I do put my seatbelt on but he doesn’t insist on it. He’s the sturdy quiet type. I can feel his love. He doesn’t need to shove it in my face.

Sadly, however, Blade is getting old. Very old. Recently I just spent an arm and a leg getting a new windshield/roof for him as his old one rusted out and therefore water was raining from the roof of my car. It was as lovely as it sounds.

Now he has decided to do something funky with the back brake light and make a VERY loud noise from below. I’m waiting for it to get so bad that I turn people’s heads when I drive by. If they cover their ears and cringe, it’s time to take him in. Until then… he’s just loud.

The thing is, I feel like he’s giving up on me. I feel like, Blade wants it to all be over. Should I call a crisis line? “I think my car is going to commit suicide!”

Well mister, you can THINK AGAIN! You are paid off my dear. You hear me? PAID OFF! You are MINE! ALL MINE! And Ben and I need you. I’m not ready for a fancy younger model. So dear Blade, get a grip! Pull yourself my your seatbelt straps!! You aren’t even to 100,000 miles! To some you are still a spring chicken! What do I need to do to get you to snap out of this funk? Do you need a good washing? A new air freshener? A good waxing? You name it buddy and it’s yours!

I won’t let you go. I’ll pour more money into you if need be. Ben and I will eat Ramen noodles for a month if that’s what it takes.

I often feel like Blade and I are in that scene from Titanic. He’s in the icy water, ready to go under and I’m on a door floating in the water.

Blade: I love you, Becky.

me: Don’t you do that, don’t say your good-byes. You must do me this honor, Blade. Promise me you’ll survive. That you won’t give up, no matter what happens, no matter how hopeless. Promise me now, Blade, and never let go of that promise.

Blade: I promise.

me: Never let go.

Blade: I’ll never let go. I’ll never let go, Becky.

Clearly I’m in desperate need for a pet too. Or a love life.