Poor Baby, my white Chevy Malibu, has been in the shop all week. Her little trunk was bashed in when a pick up truck backed into us in a parking lot. I am thankful that the insurance covers a rental car while the repairs are being made, but really, a whole week? How tough can it be to pop off one trunk lid and pop on another!
I call the repair shop to see if my car is ready to come home today. I speak with a pleasant woman who puts me on hold to check. No, Baby is not quite ready. Maybe Monday. Not to worry, the insurance will continue to cover the rental car.
I am sad. I miss my own car. It fits me. Though the rental car is a bit bigger and more plush than mine, the seat is awkward for my particular folds and curves. I am not used to where the buttons are for various features, and it took me 20 minutes to figure out how to move the seat close enough to the gas pedal to be able to drive.
You would think I would be happy having an upgrade at my disposal, and I am thankful that I do not have to carpool with Kiel or walk or take a bus. But there is a connection to the familiar that is not easy to overcome. I will be happy when things return to "normal" if there is such a thing.
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