Love me, love my Volvo

I have an old Volvo that I love. A 1992 940 Turbo. Silver. Paid for in full of course. It is the car that I think is "me."

For an old car, it has lots of perks. A sunroof. Heated leather seats. A 10 disk CD player. Air conditioning (hooray, and only 110,000 miles. I love my car.

There is the issue of gear though. I have to carry around an 88 key digital piano with me quite frequently. In order to get this in the Volvo, I would have to put it in the backseat without putting it in a case. The window on the opposite side would have to be rolled down, the keyboard lifted onto the edge of the door, the opposite door closed, and then the window rolled up again.

I thought that worked fine.

Guy totally disagreed.

Amidst the protests, Guy bought me a bigger car. Granted, after having it for several months now, I would agree that we did in fact need it, and I do love the new car. We have been able to go to my gigs comfortably with all my gear, the two of us, and even Lovely and Papa along for the ride. It has been wonderful.

Now that Guy has a bit of a commute, he has decided that he should drive the Volvo to work and not put miles on his tiny tiny convertible. Plus, he won't die if someone hits him on the ever insane stretch of I-40 he has to drive.

We were taking the neglected Volvo out for a test drive before he started using it. I was excited it was up and running again and excited that he actually wanted to drive it. My car. He liked something of mine. It felt good to be useful.

Unfortunately, I had forgotten about its little quirks. Like how only I seem to be able to turn the key in the ignition. It works, it's just a little tricky. Then there is the "chug chug" noise it makes when the Turbo doesn't kick in and you are accelerating.

My favorite though is the speedometer.

I had completely forgotten that the speedometer totally freaks out all on its own. In the Volvo, you can go from 0 to 30 in a split second, and then back down to 0 again even though you are still moving forward. On the highway, it safely rounds up to 80 so that you can feel like you are flying even though you are probably only going about 50.

And if you talk badly about it, the needle simply twitches between 30 and 80, like it has Turrets.

Now Guy is not nearly as excited about driving the Volvo as I had hoped he would be.

What I see as *ahem* character, he somehow sees as things that are broken.

I'm going to have to work on him. Or fix the Volvo. One of the two.