Like many young men in college, I believe I’ve found the love of my life. She’s small, temperamental, and barely functioning. No, not a philosophy major; I’m talking about my car.
She stands just under five feet tall, wears her scars proudly, and responds best to emotional bribery and gentle slaps. Her name is Toyetta. (That’s pronounced with a thick Italian accent.)
She’s a 2009 Toyota Camry LE with nearly 300,000 miles and the grit of a war veteran. She is, in every sense, a Frankenstein made from mismatched windows, fishing line, and raw willpower. I didn’t choose Toyetta. She chose me, probably out of spite.
You don’t drive Toyetta, you negotiate with her .
She’s got a driver’s side roof seam that has given up on life and now flails in the wind like a neglected kite string. If I don’t tuck it in before takeoff, it slaps the car’s side mirror, windshield, and occasionally passing cyclists, just to remind them who’s boss.
Oneofherbackwindows is a different shade than the others, a scar left not-thatlong-ago from her failed boxing match with a large dumpster.
Her frame bears the permanent reminders of hailstorms from her days living in the temperate state of Ohio.
The bumper is cracked. Not from a crash, Toyetta wouldneverbesodramatic. It cracked simply from existing too hard.
Her tire rims? Chewed on by dogs. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but they treat her like a stuffed chew toy.
I once took Toyetta to a school dance in the city, an hour from campus. Halfway there, she began inviting new, never before heard sounds, capped off by an outright refusal to exceed 30 MPH. She waited, out of politeness I assume, to fully break down after I pulled into my parking spot. When we popped the hood, the engine was barely tethered in place.. By some divine act, she sputtered back to life just long enough for the boys and me to send our dates home with another car while we prepared for what became a two-and-a-half-hour odyssey back to Shawnee.
Halfway through our midnight pilgrimage, rain started pouring down. Not just a drizzle but biblical rain. On a pitch-black backwater road in the middle of nowhere, I lost all visibility. This was mostly because Toyetta’s wipers, instead of clearing water, spread a mysterious film of grease across the windshield like they were frosting a cake.
Shortlyintothestormand without warning, the wipers detached completely and flew off the car. Blind, wet, and dressed in suits, we pulled into a dimly lit, questionably functional gas station.
There, under flickering lights, we chewed bubble gum and bought a spool of fishing line. Using our redneck tools, we strapped the wipers back onto Toyetta’s face like makeshift braces on a greased-up robot, and drove the last leg home.
If you, valured reader, are struggling to give away a free car, I know a broke college kid who would be willing to take your burden.
Toyettas glove box hasn’t closed since Obama was in office. She makes noises that should only be heard in war zones or horror films.
But there’s a kind of poetry in the chaos, I’m sure she could be a kind of analogy for the American economy.
And yet, in spite of everything, I love her. Not because she’s dependable (she’s not). Not because she’s beautiful, I love her and she’s mine. She’s the first car that was ever mine. She’sbeentherewhenIwas late to class, late to work, and late to church. (She probably broke down on the way.)
She never judges me for eating gas station chicken. Toyetta just keeps going. Not because she wants to, but because I’ve emotionally guilt-tripped her into it.
She’s not a machine. She’s family.
Will she make it to 300,000 miles? Probably. Will I survive the journey? Unclear. But I know this: Toyetta will go out the same way she lived; smoking slightly and held together by bubble gum, and by prayers.
Those who have had the privilege (or misfortune) of riding in Toyetta have left glowing reviews: “Somehow a moving lit dumpster fire.” - Kaden B “The bane of your existence.” - Hannah P “A haunted vessel” - Karson E “Amidnightpioneerwho travels at the speed of a elderly man.” - Adrian F “A fighter.” - Reagan M “For a reliably unpredictable car, it’s pretty grate.” - Nathan J “Toyetta (noun): The high maintenance girlfriend where everything goes wrong but you can’t not love her.” - Adam M “A sudden gust of wind away from falling apart.” - Maci M