palmerpink

When I was looking for cars, there was one undivertible restriction: It had to be a hatchback. Why? Well, over the years, I accumulated various experiences regarding different types of cars--experiences which eventually cornered me into a hatchback love affair. I remember my father getting a Saturn sedan when I was a young kid. Maybe it was all the waiting around while they haggled, or maybe it was the (then) appalling new car smell, or maybe it was just the look of the car itself, but I took an instant dislike to the car. By extension, I suppose, I've always thought sedans were kind of uggerz. So no sedans for me. In high school, I remember some gas hike or another, and all the discussion of gas-guzzling SUVs. I remember the Hummer especially, that ghastly monstrosity, and all the shame thrown at their owners. I recall how an opinionated friend's despised those particularly, and SUVs generally. (He even wrote a short story about a possessed SUV killing its owner or some ...

It's weird, how I feel about my car. Marshmallow is my first real  car--the first I bought myself, the first that felt like mine. While her predecessor, RAKKA3, certainly did the job and did it admirably well, he felt more like a means to an end where Marshmallow feels like a friend in itself. Is that weird? Yeah, that's probably weird. But I like her, so I'll own it. I like her a lot. I love how tiny she is, her swanky lines, the joy of blasting music and zooming along. And, yeah, knowing that she's mine doesn't hurt. Which brings up an interesting point. Marshmallow is an inherently better, cooler, cuter car than any other car because she is my car . That makes sense, right? I'm sure other people could say the same about their cars for the same reason, but they would be wrong. Anyway, I named her "Marshmallow" because white wasn't my first choice for a car color; I doubted I'd ever have another white car. So I tried to think of somethin...