She Drives Me Crazy

I remember when my dad bought her. I was 16. He described her as having the same features as this new thing called a Prius, but it was more affordable and wasn’t a hybrid car. Of course he made sure she was complete with a CD player and no power windows, in case they could cause you to be trapped inside. She was forest green, which I immediately hated because they had an awesome light teal colored one I thought was way cuter.
She’s the car I learned to drive on. It was in a tiny bank parking lot in our tiny home town which seems like a whole different life ago, lately. She was a 2000 Toyota Echo, which I pronounced “Etch-O,” because I thought I was being cute and quippy. When my parents split up, the Echo accompanied my dad to Oregon. I drove my mom’s Honda or Mazda or whatever. Basic four door sedan thing, easy to drive and fairly ordinary looking. I took my driver’s test much later in a Honda CR-V, but when my dad rescued me from my mother in Florida, “Enid” the Echo as she would later be named, came down from Oregon to scoop me up.
I can’t pretend I was excited to see either one of them, Enid or my dad that is, but they were there, just like they always have been. The Echo towed a trailer with all my furniture in it, 2,500 miles up the mountains to Eugene, Oregon in 5 of the longest and most miserable days ever. Before we even got 4 hours out she took away our air conditioning capabilities because she’d overheat from towing our emotional baggage and the massive trailer. No one could believe we fit an entire bedroom set and all my other crap in just an Echo and a trailer. But we were rock stars.

As soon as we got home to Oregon, my dad and I shared the Echo. Finally he bought a truck to better suit his needs for life in the woods and Enid became my own. I had the newest car of my friends in High School. She was cute. I eventually started adorning her in stickers. If you look at my Echo and then others, you start to see how they actually just look ridiculous without being covered in bumper stickers. I had punk rock bands, offensive political statements about Bush and random other band’s names, plastered all over her. She’s very eclectic.

Her name came to me shortly after meeting some friends that had a band. All of their cars had names, like “The Faded Patch,” and such. During a phase where I was obsessed with the Barenaked Ladies, I heard this song “Enid.” And I thought…”Hmm, Enid the Etch-O. Has quite the ring to it.” And so she has become the greatest car there ever was!

Currently Enid has over 230,000 miles on her. She has been across the country 3 times. She’s been up and down the Oregon Coast, seen Washington, Idaho, and even driven down Lombard Street in San Francisco. She got to ride on a trailer when we moved to Tampa two years ago, because she’s such precious cargo but she’s a BAMF with no doubt.

My father trained me to be meticulous about taking care of her. More than most chicks would ever. So I am: Oil changes regularly, tires, general maintenance and always treating her well. This is a car that has been there for me for a decade. She’s been with me longer than I’ve known my husband!

An ex-boyfriend almost stole her once. It was just her and me on the tearful drive home. She used to help me get my favorite little ones to the park to feed the ducks. Lolly even decorated her in Dora The Explorer stickers, that are still on the rear window. Enid gave me the momentum to get my only speeding tickets. She drove all the people I loved the most around at one time or another. She got my old best friend and his sister’s to their grandparent’s final moments, got countless friends to concerts, and never let any one of us down.

She camped, she was a mountaineer and even hit the gravel roads deep in the Oregon woods to get to my dad’s off the grid cabin. She saved our lives when we spun out on the highway on black ice with barely a scrape or scratch on her. We were going 60miles per hour and easily could have flipped and crashed through the embankment but instead she just bounced and turned, halting us safely.

On our wedding night someone broke Enid’s window and stole some of our stuff before our big move to Florida. She let us patch her up with duct tape and withstood a wicked southern rainstorm until we could get her window fixed. She always takes care of us, and we’ll always take care of her.
Since we’ve been down in Florida, we’ve put a lot of miles on her. We can’t afford a new car any time soon, so we are very attentive to her needs. She’s cost us some bucks over the last two years but she’s getting old so she deserves some TLC. It was on Sunday night recently though, that she was seemingly taking a turn for the worse.

We’d just gotten her oil changed. My husband had recently made the rule that she really needs to run a few minutes after sitting for more than a couple of hours before we just take off, so she gets warmed up before every outing. One rainy morning, she seemed to be choking in some way. I could feel her jerking a bit under me. It wasn’t enough for her to not work, but it was concerning. She quit her jolts a few minutes in and got us to work. Sunday afternoon though, she wasn’t quitting. The entire drive across town, unless I hit 50miles per hour, I could feel her having a tough time.

Sundays are often my Friday so I met my husband at the bar and he fed me candy-flavored shots and a beer. Finally we left and he drove us home. It was when he felt it that he immediately said, “I’m taking her in first thing in the morning.” I was rolling my eyes about it costing money when a pained look crossed his face. He said, “Oh, no…I hope it’s not the transmission, because that’s like 2,000$ and we’d have to buy a new car.”

My buzzed emotional self lost it. I actually felt the tears running down and sobbed. “No! She’s the best car in the world! It’s not her time to go! She’s been with me forever! She’s the only car I’ve ever had!” Because my husband is a great man, he just holds my hand and says, “Honey, I’m sure she’s fine. She’s great but we need to check it out. And she’s an old girl so we’ll just see.”
At this point all I can think about is how offensive that new car smell would be. How could I be in a car with no dog hair, and without stickers? Then I pictured them smashing her in one of those giant machines and I just bit my lip and felt another tear push my mascara into my eyes. I paused a couple times admitting it was ridiculous that I was crying over a car but Enid wasn’t “a car!” SHE WAS MY CAR!

When I had no one, Enid was there to take me away. When everything in my life sucked, she was still there. She was the only piece of Pennsylvania I truly had left that wasn’t a photograph, family member or friend. She followed me everywhere. She drives me crazy in all the best ways! She’s never stranded me or would ever hurt me. As the great Queen song proclaims, “I’m in love with my car!”

I barely slept that night and as I tossed and turned I just begged the universe for it to not be the transmission or cripplingly expensive. My husband rolled out of bed and took her in. It took an hour just for the diagnostic. I felt like I was waiting for them to say she had car cancer. When he called, he asked what all people ask in those situations: “Good or bad news first?”

“Bad,” I said.

“The cylinders and the spark plugs all have to be replaced and they don’t have the parts. Good news is it’s not the transmission.”

“WHEW!” I thought, as he interjected, “But it’s still going to cost about $500 bucks.”
Ugh! Can’t we catch a break!? But I was quickly calmed at the fact that Enid was going to be okay. They sent my husband home with a newish, bright red Toyota Camry. He looked ridiculous in it. It was huge and so clean and…NEW! It felt weird. I didn’t know how soon we would get the car back and I had a crummy day at work until my co-worker buddies showed up and then one said, “I’ll see if I can see a shiny red car waiting for you.”

“Oh wait,” she said, “He’s got your car! And there’s Brodie!” I was instantly happy to see my car waiting for my with my pug hanging out the window. The family was back together: Eben, Ali, Brodie and Enid the Etch-O. I know I’ll lose it when her time comes, but for now, we have a lot of family events to do together, and even though she can drive us crazy, she can drive us everywhere!