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The tow-truck man came to pick up the Feministiva today. Tomorrow I'll find out from the mechanic if she can be saved or if a swift mercy killing is in order.
I'm not normally one to anthropomorphize cars (or assign them genders), but watching my formerly peppy little blue machine get carted away tonight, I found it hard not to feel sorry for her. Jim's in favor of keeping the car as long as we can, and I sort of am, too. But part of me knows that what's coming is one trip to the shop after another for increasingly drastic repairs. I'm wondering if a clean break is in order.
Still, knowing tonight might be the last time I see my tiny car made me much sadder than I was expecting.
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