I call my car “the old lady”.
Not because she’s old, but because of the way she looks.
Pre-old lady, I always had cars that were black. It’s just my thing.
But the old lady…she snuck past my defenses.
You see, about three years ago my sweet black ride was headed into a state of disrepair.
And then my dad died.
He gifted me “the old lady”.
I cried like a baby. For two reasons.
- I loved my dad.
- He turned me into an instant senior citizen.
Last car on the planet I would ever choose. Last color on the planet I would ever choose.
Meet the old lady.
Buicks never die.
Great.
Does your car say anything about you? Do you name your cars?
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We may be getting a Matrix for a second hand car soon. I don’t really care what kind of car it is as long as it gets me from point A to point B. – lol.
I love me a good Buick! I have a Buick Rendevouz and recently did a review on the regal. Yours isn’t old lady at all! Pinky promise!
Kas
I LOVE my mini van and even when I no longer have a need for all the seats, I still want a mini van. That said, I like your car. It has a respectability about it. Not “old”, rather distinguised in a wise sort of way.
Could be worse. We’re in a Ford F150 Lariat pick-up, in burgandy and cream. Oh and she’s an ’88 that only gets 12 miles to the gallon. Do you think she’d die already? Nope. A few repairs and good as new. Although she’s got rust patches everywhere. I swear she’s going to rust away before she actually kicks on us. I swear that Timex actually made this vehicle…