Getting from point A to Point B

Before I get started, let me just say that I am not a car person.  I attach no status to having a particular car.  For me, a car is simply a means of getting from point A to point B.  I have no talent for distinguishing different types of cars.  When looking for our car in a parking lot, if I have forgotten to take note of where I have parked, I look for the car based on colour and license plate number.  (This reminds me that my grandmother also had difficulty identifying cars.  On more than one occasion, when I was a child and my mother and I would return to the car, my grandmother wouldn't be in the car even though she had left a few minutes before us.  We would look around and find her sitting in another orange car on the other side of the parking lot.  She had simply jumped into the first orange car she saw.  Understand that it was Newfoundland in the 1970s and no one locked their doors.  Now that I think about it, the only thing that has stopped the same thing happening to me was a car door that wouldn't unlock with my key.  Only when I did not recognize the items in the car did I realize my mistake and walk away, giggling self-consciously.)  Okay, so what was I saying?  Oh yes.  Cars.  I am not a car person but I am sentimental.

    

Yesterday Mike picked up our new car which means that he drove our old car to the car lot and left it there.  The old car that caused us some amount of financial stress the past year or so.  The old car that caused us some emotional stress the past year or so when it threatened to just stop moving.  The old car that we have had since before the boys were born.  The old car within which  we brought both boys home from the hospital.  The same old car that has a dent right there from my driving into a garbage can as I went through a drive-through for a coffee as both boys napped in the back.  The same old car that has a circular scratch on one of the passenger doors from a four year old Keegan rubbing a rock against it just because.  The same old car with a broken tail light from backing into a tree on one of our family camping trips.  (That was me too.)  Yep, that car.  I didn't realize how attached I was to the car until the date and time of the switch was determined.

The new car is red and shiny and seems to have lots of fancy buttons.  Mike gave me a little tutorial last night on how to start the car without a key.  (Without a key?!  Just doesn't seem right to me.)  He was not impressed with my response to his directions of putting my foot on the brake and pressing this button:  "Which one is the brake?"  He even mumbled "Which one is the brake?" with a shake of his head as we were getting into bed last night.  It's just that I am not used to driving the new car.  Doesn't seem natural yet.  It will just take some time to put some nicks and dents on the new car.  Metaphorically speaking, of course.