“I’m Bringing Sexy Back”
Thanks anyway, Justin Timberlake, but I mean “Sexy” the car. It’s been two years since we bought “Sexy” the Chrysler Pacifica and it's already shabby. It's not faulty mechanically-- it’s just been broken-in, like an old shoe or an old dumpster. When I drove our used 2004 white beauty off the lot, I was in a 1950s movie, fake scenery whizzing behind me, scarf casually wrapped over my head, dark glasses, bright lipstick and hair blowing. I turned up the radio, opened the sunroof and I was young again in my new sexy ride. “Sexy” was pristine at first: black interior, GPS, leather seats, bitchen stereo. I took a vow to the car, “I promise to keep you clean, and not forsake your floor mats in favor of salty boot prints. I will not allow gum-wad sculptures to be constructed in your ashtrays or spill drinks on your fluffy carpeting.” I meant every word . I lovingly kept it clean…until the first child-pop-spill spoiled my perfect image of her She was impure.