The Work Car

Sorry, no sex.

THE WORK CAR

"So, I have this car. It is my exclusive work car." I was saying when my wife interrupts me.

"But you don't have a work car." She is puzzled. I like this look better than the sanctimonious denial. Much better than the angry tears.

"Please, just listen to me." I take a breath and begin again. "When I get home, I park my work car in its special spot in the garage. When I go to work, I park in my dedicated parking space at work." She looks like she wants to ask when I got my own parking space at work. "The one I got in the underground parking garage for my work on the Wilson account, instead of a bonus or a raise." I said it quickly to keep her from interrupting again. She nods, probably thinking how cheap my boss is.

"My work car is special. I only use it to go to and from work. On Sundays I wash and wax it. Polish it up nice... I buy a new air freshener, one of those lemon ones you like, every three months or so."

"When I first got the car, I loved the new car smell. The feel of the upholstery. The responsiveness. A touch on the gas. A tap on the brake. A light touch on the wheel was all I needed. I was proud of the flawless finish." I let it sink in. "I was proud to be seen driving my work car. I got great pleasure from all those things. But the new does not last. Life happens. If you drive a car over time the paint job will get a few dings. The upholstery gets a little worn, maybe the stain from the coffee I spilled never really comes out."

"In a way I love my car more after the new is gone. I know where I am at with my work car, I don't accidentally run the underside up on the curb or knock down traffic cones because I'm too close to the edge. I don't need to think about when to slow for a stop, or whether I have enough room to pull into traffic. I'm starting to wear a comfortable spot for my butt in the driver's seat. I know I can rely on it to get me to and from work."

"If someone asked me about trading up, getting a new car, my answer would be no. I love this car. A new car might be lemon, a nightmare. A new car would have all the latest bells and whistles, but I don't want to learn about all these new things. All the extras are things I have done without and more gadgets to break down. I can turn on the rear windshield wiper in the dark without turning on the ceiling light or even looking. I know every bit of the car. I know the sound, the feel when it's running on bad gas. I have the oil changes marked off on my calendar and I take care of them like clockwork."

The atmosphere is calmer. My wife is listening to me like this is a bedtime story I am making up for the kids. They are both out on their own now. My son hated my made-up stories, he wanted to hear the same exact story over and over again. He would get upset when I 'got it wrong'. Or forgot a detail.

"One day I am working at my desk. I get a call. It's the police."

"Sir, your car has been in an accident. Where do you want us to tow it?" I'm even doing voices now, God help me!

"That can't be! My car is parked in my special dedicated parking space in underground parking. You must be mistaken!" I am just making this up, why am I getting upset? "In the end I tell them where to take the car they found and then I go check my parking space. I am shocked, there is no car there. I can't believe it. The sign with my name on it is there, but the car is gone."

"As I go back to my desk, I start to think about it. The times coming back to my car where I thought I parked a little funny. The times the rear-view mirror was a tad off or that one time I had to adjust the seat. Times I thought I smelled someone else's aftershave and thought it was my imagination, or something on the outside. I realized someone had been using my car for some time."

"I get back to my office and my secretary admits, 'I thought you knew.' It turned out most of the people at work had seen my empty parking space at one time or another and figured out I was sharing my car. Some of them thought I was renting it out to make a little extra cash, some thought I was pressured into loaning it out to friends or family, but was ashamed to talk about it. A few people had asked me 'How did you get to work? Or 'where did you park your car?' 'Is your car, ok? Not in the shop?' over the years, but my short answers to their nonsensical questions had shut down further conversation."

"I realized I was oblivious. I never put anything together. I was incapable of knowing." I paused a moment. My wife was staring at her feet.

"That ass who thought he should have gotten my job definitely knew. The smirk on his face when I spoke about my car. The questions like 'Can you get Two golf bags in your trunk?' and 'What's the seating capacity?' 'Is it a smooth ride?' 'Do you ever go off road with it?' I knew he was kidding around but I never got the joke."

"There is a real chance other people drove my car more than I ever did."

"The guy at the shop says he can make it look pretty good, if the frame is bent it will always have problems. He won't be able to use all factory parts though."

"I told him that I was just going to total it."

"He told me he could put in a car tracker. That there were other things I could do to secure my car, but honestly if someone wants to take your car badly enough, you can't stop them."

"I did not know until the accident, but that does not mean I did not lose anything when others were using my car. I think I am going to switch to public transport. I am probably too old to be driving anyway."

I am pretty sure my wife was doing the silent tear thing when I left.