I'm torn...

It needs saying Omega HATES my car. He does and doesn't mince words about it either. My ride is an old, 1969 Pontiac Firebird, with formula 400 engine in it, and I'm sorry but I like it. It's the second car I've ever owned, my first was my Camero, born in 1967. Note use of the word 'born' that car was my baby. This car is nice but not my baby. I like driving it though. I hate the fact it only gets like 5 miles to the gallon, and takes 20 minutes each morning to warm up (longer in cold weather), but I love the sound it makes when it idles, or I step on the gas. I feel like I'm going somewhere. Even if it's just to work.

Yes, it has no shoulder seat belt thing, it was an option back that the original owner opted against, probably because it was an either or thing. You could use the lap band, or the shoulder, but they both didn't connect together. It makes Omega crazy when I drive my car. Although he knows I'm a good driver and don't take risks (I've had only one accident in my life and it wasn't my fault). He worries nonetheless. I understand, I really do, his worries, though Omega has certainly become more vocal about this since we started being together.

So recently, during our 'together time' he took me out to his car, and showed me how to use it. It's not a car you drive, but pilot. Seriously it has more gadgets than I knew existed. The dash looks like something from a science fiction movie. The car recognizes his voice. He ran me through the paces setting it up to recognize me as a driver. From now on the car will "remember" everything it knows about me from the temperature, to seat placement, including the sound of my voice. There is something I find unsettling about a car that knows this much about me. When I hit the button to enter it, it will automatically move the seat forward. There is also something unsettling about a car that has no "key" to start it. You carry this thing and it just knows your there. It doesn't just know 'a' driver is there but which driver has entered the car.

Omega being the primary driver, has an option that the car will tell him when it needs servicing. An option he takes full advantage of. I find it unsettling that the car "talks" to him well, it actually sends him text messages or something. If my car needs something it tells me too, normally by running rough, it certainly doesn't need to text me.

When Omega goes to New York, he expects me to drive his car while he's away. He did warn me though for every dent I put in his car I will be "dented" likewise. I asked if I totaled his car, if he wouldn't total me. He said absolutely. He had this mischievous twinkle in his eye when he said it.

So, he opened the drivers door and escorted me behind the wheel, then got into the passenger side. He told me to start the car. I was intimidated by the car. He got impatient with me and said in that tone, "lets go!" It handles very different from my car. Omega laughed saying well it was built in this century. Everything about the car was different, the way it handles corners, the steering, the brakes....I nearly killed us hitting the break! I'm surprised the airbag didn't go off. He made me go onto the freeway, and it was nice. The car is fun to drive in a different way. His car even smells different, like leather and plastic. My car smells more like stale cigarettes (I never smoke while driving), and musky. It smells like some one's grandpa.

When we got back to the house I looked at my car, and felt a-not-so-little pang of guilt, as though I had just cheated on my car. Was this the emotional equivalent of having an affair? Omega laughed seeing my reaction. He kissed my forehead, and said that my car would understand. I giggled. He made me promise under penalty of heavy punishment that I would drive his car while he's away and ONLY his car. I actually feel safer driving my own car but he won't hear of it. Reluctantly though I agreed and I understand his reasons--he only wants to keep me safe. How can I be angry with that? Plus it will remind me of him. I'll leave a water bottle on the floor to make myself feel at home while I drive it around. Empty of course. I won't say that I'll send my Firebird away, but maybe I should consider his car as a test drive for something different.