NA Love Letter

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She’s not my daily driver but she moves me daily.

In the mornings, when I head off to work, I open the garage door just to see her smile. Sometimes she winks at me, inviting me to turn her on – to rev and roar and push and pull and press and shake and growl!

I carry the key to her heart. It lives on a small chain in my pocket but it’s not what you think; it’s not to keep her locked up. I’m her freedom and she is mine. I carry it close to connect, to remind me and calm me in times of need. It’s a reminder of memories past and anticipation of future.

Not often enough we get to spend a day, an afternoon, an hour. When time permits – whether sun shine or rain fall, it matters little – we elope and which road we take is but a triviality. What matters is her soft embrace wrapped around my body, the smooth feel of her wheel in my hands, the ripple of the stitches playing gentle music on the tips of my fingers. The satisfying snick-snick of her gear changes; first, second, snick, third, hold it, push it… The mechanical roar and raw metallic opera hitting notes of the highest fidelity.

Not often but always enough.

We get dirty together. A day in the garage fills us with as much content as a good drive. She opens up to me, cuts and chips, drooping and weeping, brittle, faded, aging flaws and all. Checking fluids, inspecting connections and plugs, bulbs and pads… No less than intimate, time lost as we share grease, sweat and blood.

We didn’t agree once. It was all too much: the burden of love and care, of maintenance, the expense in time and cost. Through thick and thin it is said. Sometimes the promises are too heavy to fulfill.

We almost parted once. The only path leading us to our farewells, to step away with finality and heal apart.

We loathed each other once. Things just stopped working, we lost the connection and nothing fit – pointless, parasitic, pathetic, pitiful… pain.

We almost lost each other once. It’s difficult to recall as the slow clatter of the garage door winds its way up, matching the marching rhythm of our excitement. Key in hand loosely dangling, adventure ready. She’s wearing a wide eager smile – a mirror reflection of my own – asking, β€œWhere to today?”

She moves me.

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