Right now I have conflicting feelings about the cars that held my affection during my life.  We Americans didn't invent the car but we developed the mass production of them, thanks to Mr. Ford.  They became cheap, easy to repair and fairly dependable.  From my first pre-war Chevy with stick on the floor with four doors to our Lexus hybrid, (really Carol's car) the cars I have owned have not owned me. 

Let me clarify.  I have distinct memories of cars being washed and groomed each week, perhaps more so than their owners.  Cars, instead of being transportation, have become symbols for some and absolute necessities for others.  Today, some people are reported to be living in their cars because they have been foreclosed out of their houses.  In many instances, the retirement plans of some have depended on car-like house trailers pulled to different sites from time to time.

I like the utility of cars.  They can get me to where I need to be and, because I own one, I do not have to depend on friends or "public" transportation.  I haven't been on a bus for maybe twenty years.  I also have pleasant and unpleasant memories about cars owned and cars who let me down on various occasions.

From that pre-war Chevy I graduated to Plymouths, particularly the first ones to have fins and push button transmissions.  Our present Lexus has a stick that pushes into the transmission slot needed.  Sometimes old ideas are reprocessed.  Because of doctrinal reasons, I have never owned a Ford.  And for some perverse reason I have liked the exotic feeling of owning a European contraption from France.  They put out a Renault 2CV which was actually mostly a two-seater but which could be taken apart and put together with a screwdriver.  One model, the Renault 4CV looked very much like my 1938 Chevy, sort of scaled down with four doors but with the motor in the rear.  I fell in love with that car but it was not made for American highways or the speeds to which I subjected it to.  It broke down frequently and parts were hard to find.  I believe that this car was designed by the German who gave us the Volkswagen.  At the end of World War II, the French captured him and he was put to work to make a "peoples car" for Frenchmen.  That is when this perfectly cute little car which broke down too many times was called the Third Reich's Revenge.

I convinced Carol who was working as Camp Director up in Elizaville,      New York that if we had a trailer and a Chevy Suburban to pull it we could travel all over the country.  She took a chance and we took a chance on buying a used trailer and a used Suburban and traveled across the country five times.  There is no doubt about it.  Cars are for transportation.