joy

Happy anniversary to Cam, my beloved Camaro

Posted on by Kat

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I will never forget the first time I saw Cam.

It was Christmas Eve, 21 years ago. I was going through a hard time after several things I had set my sights on had not worked out. I was driving aimlessly, listening to music, passing time and trying not to feel all the hurt in my life.

And then, I looked over at a car dealership off the expressway and there she was. It was the flash of brilliant red that caught my eye. She was parked under the portico, with one of those Jesus lights on her. Well, I call them Jesus lights. They’re the ones they put over cars and jewelry that when you see them, you hear a choir of angels singing.

Now this might sound kind of strange to people, but since I was a little girl, I had dreamed of a red sports car. But as the years passed and I grew older, I never saw one like it. Not until this night. See, they hadn’t even made this car when I was a child. Oh, they had Camaros, all right. But they were a much different shape and body style than the one I saw in my dreams.

But suddenly, on a lonely, dark, cold and snowy Christmas Eve, right out of a child’s dream, there was the flashy red car for which I had longed.

I pulled off the expressway and took the side streets to the dealer. I honestly expected the car not to be there, for it to have been a figment of my imagination. But no, there she was. I knew she was a girl and I knew her name before I got out of my own car to look at her.

“Cam,” I whispered. Her name came to me right then, like I had known it all my life.

Something in that car spoke to me. Oh, it isn’t like I heard an actual voice, but something in her called to my spirit, made me feel peaceful and no longer sad. It was like she wiped the darkness away from inside of me.

I walked all around her, admiring every angle, every detail. I loved the rectangle headlights, the length of her hood, the slant of her back glass. She was exactly as I had dreamed about off and on throughout the years and I could hardly believe I wasn’t dreaming right then.

I sat down on the cold pavement beside her, but I didn’t feel the slightest chill. She made me feel warm and happy, and the only way I can really get close to describing the feeling was it was like I had come home. Until then, I didn’t even know I had been away.

I don’t know how long I stayed, marveling at this wonder. They say there is a magic at Christmas, and I felt it then like at no time before or since. This was my car. She had been made for me, destined to be with me before she was even designed.

I know this may be a little out there for some people, but I also know other people will know exactly what I am talking about – when something is so perfect and delightful that you can’t believe your luck, fortune, chance, destiny, kismet, providence.

It took me three days to make the purchase. The dealership was closed that night, and the next day. But I spent time away from work Dec. 26 to test drive her, work on the deal and try to get financing. It went through Dec. 27 and they called to tell me I could come get her. What they may not have known was that I had visited her each night since and I could hardly wait to bring her home.

In fact, I was standing there beside her when they opened Dec. 26. I was waiting there to make a deposit so she wouldn’t get away. When the salesman asked me if I wanted to test drive her, I laughed. I said that would be fine, but it wasn’t necessary because I knew she was meant for me. He said he had never heard someone say that before. (I did drive her, and when I returned, he said he was worried about whether I would come back.) The growl of her engine just thrilled me to my core then, as it does still.

Today is our anniversary; I have owned Cam for 21 years. I know it isn’t usual for people to keep a vehicle so long, but then, she isn’t just a vehicle; she’s a friend and daughter. She has taken me away from unsafe situations and taken me to wonderful destinations. She has taken me across the country twice, and to lives in many different states. She has known all five of my German Shepherds. And she has never left me stranded.

We have gone on many adventures, and I spend a lot of time taking good care of her to make sure she runs well and looks beautiful. We’ve attended many car shows and won some awards. We’ve driven on a NASCAR track and raced at a drag strip.

For many of her years, she was my only car and we have racked up more than 200,000 miles together. Two years ago, I was fortunate enough to purchase a second vehicle, so she doesn’t have to be driven in harsh weather.

All these years later, I still get a thrill every time I see her, every time I sit in her seat, every time I turn the key. I always look back at her when walking away. And when I am having a less-than-great day, just the sight or thought of her makes me smile and feel at ease.

Happy anniversary, Cam. Here’s to many, many more.

I’m in love with my car

Posted on by Kat

I love my car

I clearly remember the first time I saw her, all sleek and scarlet under the portico of the dealership. She was a bright slash of color upon a dreary winter landscape. It was the day before Christmas and I was immediately in love.

It took three long days to make her mine. That was 20 years ago and we’re still together, my Camaro and me. It’s the best relationship I’ve ever had.

I was down and nearly out. It was the holidays and I had never been so lonely. And then there she was, calling out to me in a way that my soul heard and answered.

Cam, who I lovingly call my “autonomous mobile,” has taken me places I never thought I would go. She has carried me to awesome people and events, and away from bad people and places. She has protected me and been a place of refuge, serenity and joy. She pulled me out of the dark and continues to show me light. She has been more than a car for so long that she’s like a person to me and the other people in my life who love her.

People ask about her wherever I go, and I can’t count the number of times people have linked her with me.

“Oh, that beautiful red car that I’ve seen on Front Street?” I was once asked by a pharmacist who knew where I worked when I told her I had a sweet Camaro.

I’ve been asked about her at the dentist, the doctor, the post office, the grocery store. I’ve had people tell me they have seen her driving places and asked where she was going. How could you not smile at that?

Children especially love my car. Maybe it’s her face, which always looks like she’s smiling. Maybe it’s the Transformers Autobot logos on her front fenders. Maybe she just speaks to them like she spoke to me all those winters ago.

I love to talk about Cam and answer questions about her. I once met a young boy at a car show and he was drawn to Cam. He told me he was always being picked on by other children. He talked with me about being different, and I told him how I understood that and that you can find someone who is like you if you keep looking.

The following year, I was polishing Cam’s taillights at the annual car show when I heard an excited group of children near her front end. I looked up and there was that boy, with five other children. They were all talking about the Autobot emblems and how cool my car is.

“Yeah, but I know her,” the boy said. “This is Cam. She’s my friend.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as the other children whooped and hollered, clapping him on the back and giving him high fives. He launched into details about her that I had shared with him the year before and then he introduced me to his new friends. Their respect for him was apparent. I was so proud.

That’s my Cam, making friends and mending hearts.

Another time, I came out of work to see two young girls hanging out by my car. Now, I’m a little territorial about Cam, but it was obvious pretty quickly that the preteens weren’t up to no good.

Their eyes widened as I put my key in the lock and opened the door.

“This is your car?” one of them asked me. “We never thought it belonged to a girl!”

The other girl looked down and the one who spoke continued.

“We come and visit your car some days when we’re down,” she said. “It makes us feel better.”

I told them about meeting Cam and how she always makes me feel better, every single time I see her, all these years later. Then, the quiet girl spoke up.

“I’m glad you have her,” she said. “I don’t really have anybody.”

I told her and her friend that they could come and visit Cam anytime they wanted to. The girl who did most of the talking then hugged me. And when the quiet girl looked at me questioningly, I hugged her. Then they skipped down the street.

Cam strikes again.

Do you love your car? Tell me in the comments below. And if this post speaks to you, please share it with others.

You aren’t what you eat; you’re what you do

Posted on by Kat

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I recommend changing careers if you wake up one day and realize that the thing that has always made you happy is making you deeply unhappy.

Oh, it isn’t like it happened to me overnight. It was more of a wearing-down-over-time kind of thing. First, an unkind boss and then the company becomes less than caring paired with long hours and low pay and there I was wondering, “What am I doing here?”

So now I’m on one of the biggest adventures of my life. I made the best plan I could, fashioned a type of parachute moneywise and jumped out of the corporate plane for freedom. And I’m not looking back.

I decided that rather than write and edit for someone else to make them money, I would write and edit for myself to make me money. It’s exciting and fun and scary as hell.

They say you never know what you’re made of until you risk it all and find out. Well, I’m finding out, day by day. It’s been nearly five months since I left my job of 10 1/2 years. It was a job I loved, until it wasn’t.

The pay was never great; the hours were terrible. Sure, I could take a long lunch often when I wanted to, go to the office later in the day if I needed to and make up hours sometimes when I wanted to. Sometimes, I was even allowed to work from home.

But there were times when I called in sick and I would get asked, “Are you sure you can’t make it in anyway? What’s wrong with you? We need you here.” I once worked a 15-hour day, and workdays that lasted 10 hours or more were not the exception, but rather the rule. Some weeks, my dog walker saw my dog more than I did.

For years, I wasn’t allowed to take vacation when I wanted to, and sometimes not at all. There were years when I was told, “You can take one of these weeks here, or don’t go.” Honestly. I have the emails to prove it.

I missed events I had bought tickets to, family events, things I wanted to do with friends and even funerals of family members. I missed too many holidays to count because I HAD to be at the office.

More than one man broke up with me because I always had to put my job first. I never met a relationship that stood up to that test, at least not for very long.

But that is all behind me now and I’m working for myself. I can spend the day in my pajamas if I want to, watching episode after episode of “Star Trek” (The Original Series) and I have. I can also write all day, but do it in my pajamas if I want to, like I did today. I can play hooky when I want to, and I am spending a lot of time with my dad, my last family member. See, two years ago, I lost other family members, unexpectedly, in the space of a few months. That can really change how you think about your life and what it means to really live it.

After I grieved until I could grieve no more (although that never really ends), I took a look around and thought about the time I have left in life. After all, maybe I won’t live to be as old as I want to be. My mom didn’t. She had dreams and goals and things she was going to do. And then she was no more, and the dreams and goals and things were gone. Because of that, I thought about what I really want, and want I really don’t want. Lo and behold, that job was the first thing that I no longer wanted.

I’m freelancing now, and working on a few books. I spend time with my German shepherd and we go for a lot of walks. She loves chasing her tennis ball in a field near where we live in the little town into which I have disappeared. She’s snoring away at my feet as I write this. But it has been hard to find a groove, to set and/or stick to any kind of schedule, to get things figured out.

Turns out that when all you are is what you do, you don’t quite know who you are when you don’t do that anymore. That’s OK. I’m happy now. And that’s what really matters.

If there is something in this post that speaks to you, please share it with family and friends.