I am a Baby Blue Saturn
Just south of
I do not slow down for speed bumps. Ever. My idea of maintenance is an oil change every 3000 miles and fixing whatever breaks. Radiator flush? Injector cleaning? What the fuck is that? And I wonder why my car has all the pickup of a golf cart. The brakes are still courtesy of that illegal immigrant who kept my ex-girlfriend in the champagne room for two hours at the Crazy Horse. Seeing as how we broke up in 2004, this makes for some interesting noises. The right rear window is pulled out from the frame, since some crackhead in the Grove decided he wanted my new Razr phone a year ago and considerately managed to acquire it without breaking any glass. One year and couple hundred rainy days later, it is still pulled out from the frame and I think the molds are starting to form their own government. Thank god for Fabreeze and scented oils. Suffice to say, my car has treated me very well, despite my wholehearted neglect.
I love the fact that I drive a Saturn. It makes a statement without making a statement. Some of you may say “Yeah. It states that I am a broke ass who can’t afford anything better than a four-year-old economy car,” but I think it goes deeper than that. It says, “I really don’t feel like I need to impress you with anything other than myself.” It speaks of confidence, and not feeling a need to overcompensate for other shortcomings. It says I am proud of who I am and where I am in life, and if you don’t like it you are not my kind of person. It says that I see a car as a way to get form one place to another and not as a reflection on me as a person.
I often slam my Saturn keys down on a bar to drive this point home. This is part satire on jackasses who do it with Porsche keys, and part my way of letting a girl know that I am not going to try and pretend to be something I’m not in order to make her like me. Because you can’t lease looks, personality, or a sense of humor. My last girlfriend, a bartender, said that when I did that it was the moment she knew she liked me. She also drove a Saturn and was of much the same mindset. Again, I think by letting a girl know straight off that I am not going to try and impress her with material things it sends the right message. And you say I’m going about it all wrong.
My Saturn, when it is clean, is Baby Blue. I selected this color because I thought it matched my eyes. My sister found this endlessly entertaining for some reason, which I never understood until one of her friends from
While I keep my apartment and myself immaculately clean, my car is the great exception. I figure since I am often the only one there, who cares? The Saturn in registered in