Happy Birthday, Juanita: Enter The Teenage Years

Has anyone noticed this blog is all, “me, me, me” lately? I know that’s what a blog technically is, which makes it the perfect medium for me, really. But today I’m tired of me. Blech. Let’s focus outside of the Chosen One’s sphere for a minute. Let’s celebrate Juanita, seeing as her thirteenth birthday is rapidly approaching.

Who is Juanita? She’s fierce. She has attitude. She’s old as hell in car years.

Juanita is the name of my little green Honda. I named her after a Kathleen Turner character in an old movie, because, well, that’s just something I would do. She is alternately known as the Green Beetle, even though she is a Honda and not a Volkswagen. Before you question my intelligence, I chose that name because she is precisely the shade of those scary-ass green beetles that will dive-bomb your head when you’re completely unprepared (I prefer to don a hockey mask and carry a chainsaw when dealing with them). I also lovingly refer to her as the Green Bullet/Ninja, depending on the context.

So why are we celebrating my crappy efficient little car? Well, she will soon be entering the realm of teenagedom, and she’s been through a lot for a car with a frame like a tuna can. Also, I was annoyed this morning that her stereo hasn’t been working, because now I’m trapped alone with my own thoughts whenever I drive. I found myself coveting that new car we saw a few weeks back: one with more pick-up, a functioning stereo and a ceiling I don’t hit my head on every time I get out of the car. The new car that is at least two years away.

*Sigh*

Instead of frustratingly banging my head on the steering wheel, which was my initial instinct, I made a conscience effort to start appreciating the old girl. I mean, she’s made it a hundred and sixteen thousand miles and the tranny is only just starting to bitch out. And she is probably the cheapest car to drive ever. Really, I can cruise around with the gas light on for a good ten miles – I’ve never taken it further than that because that would just be irresponsible. I mean a pain in the ass. Whatever.

A hearty ol’ girl, she has been in A LOT of accidents. Her rear end was completely destroyed after a dude with no insurance fell asleep at the wheel and crushed her trunk to the point where it disappeared entirely. The repairs alone cost fifty percent of the car’s worth – to this day I don’t know why the insurance company didn’t total it. Probably because they didn’t want me to get a new car either.

She has also been perfect for me because since that accident, I don’t really care how she looks anymore. And green hides a multitude of sins. She’s been dinged, egged and keyed, yet she still manages to look both regal and dapper all at the same time. Especially with her “I’d rather be at Pemberley” license plate rim and the “Unicorn Success Club” sticker on the bumper. You bet your hairy llama booty that sticker adorns my car! If you don’t know what the Unicorn Success Club is, go read about it here, because it’s kind of important to me. No, it’s actually really important to me.

So there you have it. The life and times of my little engine that could. I almost don’t even want a new car…

Almost.