Many Rooms

While diving in Cozumel a few years ago, we had a spicy, expert dive master on our boat. Lorena was knowledgeable and fun, but took no shit from divers on board – safety first. She was also beautiful. This led to a few friendly inquiries from the single gentlemen in our group. “Married? Got a boyfriend?”

She smiled sweetly and said “The heart has many rooms. Why limit yourself to only one?”

As i continue excavations, clearing the space necessary to accommodate my collection of motorized companions, her message hits home.

Spring has arrived, so i’ve had a few turns driving the Jag. It is lust. Pure, heart-pounding, seat-wetting lust. She has also had her first visit to the shop for a new thermostat assembly. For optimal performance, she demands 91 octane gasoline – the champagne of the petrol pumps. There is no confusion in my mind: she is going to cost me money, give me headaches, and be incredibly high maintenance. But when i hear the throaty growl of 300 horsepower as i accelerate through a tight turn, i get such an intense rush!  She is my mistress.

Another annual milestone rolled by in March – the Ceremonial Removal of the Jeep Top. When we are together, we are seamlessly connected and operate as one. Scuffed and rusty in spots, she will never be a comfortable ride. Driving the Jeep is a meditative experience, even as the leaf springs bounce me hard enough to bruise my kidneys. During the heat of summer, sitting on the smoldering vinyl and feeling sweat roll into the crack of my butt, i will grudgingly admit it is not the most comfortable vehicle i could drive. Getting caught topless in a cloudburst isn’t always a good thing.  After the sun sets, and we are sailing along a country road, stars overhead, wind in my hair… The scent of lilacs hits me in the face on a summer night… All that is forgotten. i’ve jokingly told my children to “Start digging a hole – i’m going to be buried with her.” She is my soul mate.

With these two taking up much of my garage space, i had to get creative to find a spot for the motorcycle, so he sits angled in the corner in front of the Jeep. He is going to hurt me. He’s too big, bad and rough for me, but i can’t help myself. His power scares me.  Even though i use protection, he is capable of causing extreme damage to my body. He also makes me feel wild and untethered. i know better. i’ve had a lot of Physics, and it isn’t going to end well. Nothing but trouble, that motorcycle. He is the bad boy.

polyamory

With the acquisition of the Jag, i had to move my daily driver outside. The 2005 Honda Civic – the car i inherited from my daughter – doesn’t complain about the eviction. During a ridiculously cold winter, he started every single time i turned the key. He is cluttered with the daily shrapnel from my life – my gym bag, expired drug store coupons, CDs, used Kleenex and about a dozen cloth bags that i use for shopping. He’s my go-to for taking Mom to her medical appointments – the seat isn’t too high, or too low, so it’s easy for her to get in and out. He takes me to work. He takes me shopping. He doesn’t complain when i don’t shave. He is my husband.

My heart, indeed, has many rooms. i could use just a bit more space in the garage…

H is for Husband

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23 thoughts on “Many Rooms

    • It is rather refreshing, isn’t it? i’ve felt a little bad about how i treat ‘the husband’. This past weekend, i gave him a good cleaning and organizing. When the rain passes, we’re going to have a nice wash and wax. i may eventually even shampoo the carpets….

    • i am careful, but still know that it may not matter how careful i am… i only ride in daylight, stone cold sober, and when the pavement is dry. nothing badass about me on that bike.

  1. Do you have any pics of Lorena? You don’t have to post them here. You can text them to me. PLEASE? I want to be disciplined by Lorena.

    Please be careful driving that bitchin’ jag of yours. Okay? I know it’s kind of stupid to come right out and say that but it needs to be said.

    You cannot kill a Honda. My brother’s had 200,000+ miles on it when he finally got rid of it. Do you remember Chevy Novas? They were the same way. My mom ran her on a teaspoon of oil for months and months.

    You’ve got a lot of vehicles. A LOT.

    • i might be able to find a pic. she was a tiny little thing – maybe 5 feet tall. suspect there’s a line forming of interested minions, though. the Jag is least likely to hurt me – she is also a fair weather mistress, and i do not get a huge thrill out of driving fast. it’s pulling through the twisties that gives me a rush! accelerating hard through a turn, and feeling the tires grip the road? SCHWING!

      and i know. too many cars. i’m also in the process of selling The Boy’s car. i used to joke with my ex-husband – decades ago – that in my ideal world, i’d have a car for every mood. He said “We’re going to need a garage as big as WalMart”. Funny how things worked out…

  2. I envy you your Jag, the rest you can keep. I drank of riding in her someday.
    The rooms in my heart are filled with fiber these days. Silk is my Jag, acrylic my workhorse. But there’s cotton, alpaca, cashmere, superwash wool, they all have their job to do. Then there is the Lamborghini: quiviut. $50 an ounce. I touched it once at a local yarn store. So soft, so sexy. A girl can only dream.

    • who knows? i’m going to have that car a long time, and i’m retiring no later than the end of 2017. epic road trip to the west coast? easily within the realm of the plausible… and being able to take you out for a run? worth putting on the theoretical calendar! before i go, however, i’ll want to have you track down the name of a good jag mechanic… they are temperamental ladies…

      we all have our follies – and it seems yours is fiber. there are worse things… i will have to investigate the quiviut…. sounds sexy!

  3. I don’t like cars, I’ve never driven and have absolutely no desire to own one. T– though has got this flash little low-slung sports car that makes a real noise when it’s being driven. You’re so near the road it turns driving into a video game, and going at 50 feels like 80. It’s good fun, even for a car phobic like me.

    I bet a lot of men ceased their pursuit of Lorena when she implied that she wasn’t monogamous. Not everyone is prepared to be one of many. Good for her.

    • The car thing is either on or off, i think. Pretty wired into me from childhood, as my older brother had me crawling around under his junker cars when i was a little kid. The ‘low to the ground’ thing does make it seem like a video game – and that’s part of the rush…

      As for Lorena? She didn’t seem to care whether they lost interest or not. It serves as an efficient filter – we don’t all want the same thing.

  4. My first car was a 1965 Ford Country Squire Station Wagon. Her name was Cleo. My latest ride is a 2012 Terrain, which is now referred to as the Terrapin because that is what my nearsighted misread from the lettering on the tailgate. It stuck, I now drive a turtle…par for the very slow course.
    Jag=Champagne
    Motorcycle= Tequila
    Honda=Double Tall latte

    • i spent a LOT of time riding in the back of a mid-60’s Country Squire! bouncing around, unrestrained, hanging out the back window singing Bobby Sherman songs!

      love your drinks of choice for my rides, too… but i’m pretty sure the Honda likes Folgers. Brewed in a dirty pot, and served in a styrofoam cup. And it’s ok if it’s a little bit cold…

    • It would be much easier if i had a bigger garage. My actual ex-husband said that if i were truly going to have a car to match each mood, i’d need a garage the size of WalMart…. yeah… probably true….

  5. How did I miss this post? Oh, wait – running about getting ready to go to NZ.Also (probably) being instrument nurse for one of the Mustangs!
    One of which is now for sale.

  6. Daisyfae, it has been awhile since I have read your thoughts which always make me smile – then reflect. I do believe your Cozumel dive master may have expressed perfectly my new mantra…not talking cars either, thanks:) It was great to see you the other day by the way.

    • That particular philosophy has served me well through my transition… i found it helpful to get really comfortable in my own skin, living alone, and sorting what i really wanted, and what i really needed. You’re well on your way, sister! Every chance to spend time with you is good for my soul! Again, i think! Soon!

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