Monday, November 24, 2014

Two of a Kind

I purchased my first new car in 2002.  This was a momentous occasion - as it is for many of us that have the ability, the luxury to make such a purchase in our lives.

A sleek, silver Honda Civic LX, 4-door sedan.  Contain yourself.

This may be the moment where some of you may be asking yourselves, "doesn't he drive a sleek, silver Honda Civic LX, 4-door sedan now?"

Yes, yes I do...w/ quite some pride, by the way.  If it ain't broke, don't give it away.  And she continues to purr like a 12-year old cat.  A few hairballs, but nothing major...

My first call after this extravagant purchase was to Jill.  I was thrilled.  She was proud of me.

Of course, I mentioned to Jilly that I needed to find a name for my new vehicle.  Or, to be more accurate, a name needed to find me.

Jill did what Jill did.  She poked at me, "A name for your car?  Why?"

"A car needs a name, Jill.  She needs a name," I explained.  I then had to explain that all vehicles require a proper name.  Had Jill been driving vehicles all of her adult life w/o giving them names?  This could have been beginning of the end of our relationship right then and there.  But, I decided to take the high road, accept her flaw, and move past it.

It was a week or so after the vehicular purchase and I remember driving south on Kirby Drive in Houston, Texas - windows down, music up (as Ro I and I often say and do).  And it hit me w/ such clarity - Moonpie.  Her name is Moonpie.

I quickly called Jilly, "Moonpie!"


"Her name!  She's Moonpie!  Her name is Moonpie!"

Without missing a beat, as if it struck her like it did me, "That is perfect, Jas - just perfect.  Mazel Tov!"

Mazel Tov indeed.

Time passed.  Jill moved to Texas.  We moved in together.  We married.  We bought our first house.

Moonpie continued to hold her own in the Houston did Jilly's 2-door Honda (that she refused to name).  All was golden on four wheels at a time.

Then Rory showed up...and the 2-door dilemma presented itself.  As Rory grew, it became increasingly difficult to maneuver her into the backseat of Jill's car.

It was a hot and humid afternoon in Houston (pick any date on the calendar).  I was attempting to get Ro in her carseat when Jill piped in, "I think it's time for a new car."

"What?  Why?  This car isn't broken."

"Yes, but we can't get our child in the backseat."

"Yes we can," I retorted. "Just give me a second.  We'll work this out.  The car still runs.  We're good.  We're fine." I began to panic.  A part of me knew Jilly was right, but I wasn't about to trade in a perfectly good, paid-for car for something I had to spend money on.  That's just me.  I also knew I wasn't going to win this one.

Jill's CR-V joined our family in 2007.  You may be asking yourself, "don't they have a sleek, silver Honda CR-V, 4-door SUV?"  Yes, yes we still do.

The day we purchased the CR-V I asked the question, "What's her name?"

Jill responded, "Give me a few days.  It'll hit me.  It'll happen."

I completely understood.  I gave her the time and space.  You don't rush into these decisions.

And then it happened.  We had been watching a lot of Arrested Development and the CR-V's name is an homage to what we consider to be a brilliant television program - Crindy.  (It's an obscure reference to Gob's knee-jerk response to Michael's push to find out Gob's wife's name.  He spits out "Crindy," incorrectly naming his new wife.  We always laughed at this quick dialogue.)

And so it was.  Crindy and Moonpie.  Two of a kind.

And today whenever Ro and I head out of the house, Ro asks, "What's it going to be, Dad?  Crindy or Moonpie today?"  It feels good.  It feels right.

It was a good ride, Jill Marie.  Thx for playing w/ me.

All love,

J, J, & r

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