Wednesday, March 16, 2011
My new car and I have been getting to know one another. Since it was just an upgrade, I didn't bother to read the manual, preferring instead to figure out any changes along the way.
How does the CD player work? How do I get the windshield wiper fluid to work? Which side is the gas cap on?
This car and I have become good friends the last couple of weeks. I'm happy to report she also has a name now.
Meet Stella. Has a nice sassy and Southern ring to it, doesn't it?
While Mark, Erin, and Katelyn visited, we collectively put our heads together with Joel and Tracy to Name The Car. After discussion at breakfast, Joel suggested Blanche.
Blanche. I can't hear that name without thinking of Tennessee Williams and A Streetcar Named Desire. I took a class on the playwright and his works during college. Absolutely fascinating. In any case, if you say Blanche, I will naturally think of Stella. Well, really I'll hear Stanley/Marlon Brando bellowing "Steeeellllaaaaaa!!!"
Stella in the play may have been a browbeaten, timid wife but Stella the car has all kinds of personality.
When I stop to think of it, a car can seem an extension of who we are, reflecting our own personalities. Stella, already adorned with a White Sox car magnet, is stocked with some of my favorite mix CDs. A blanket for spontaneous picnics is stashed in the trunk, along with cloth bags for groceries and the giant snowscraper that is a souvenir from Midwestern winters. I keep my cars neat and tidy, which is similar to how I keep my home. Both get dusty at times but there is no certainly no clutter.
It seems fitting that I'd want a sassy and Southern name for my car. Because while I've always been sassy, I'm now starting to think of myself as a Southerner in the best possible way.