My car turned 80k miles old today.

Next month is the last month I'll have to own it. It'll be mine, all mine. My own black '98 Acura Integra GS-R.

I still remember the night I got it... how ecstatic and relieved and guilty and sick to my stomach I felt about it. I remember rueing the fact that my dad put up the 5k downpayment for it. There was no other way I could have the car. I hated feeling like I owed him. I remember fighting him and mom about getting a manual car, a black car... how my mom said black is of the devil and I'm associating with him and all things dark and evil... how this was just another thing they were using to denigrate me.

I remember how slowly and carefully I drove it the first couple of days. I remember how I said to myself that if my boyfriend at that time drove my car and crashed it, that'd mark the immediate end of our relationship, even though I really did love him. I remember how breaking up flitted across my mind when he scraped my rims while parallel parking it a couple of times.

I remember resisiting temptation to modify (er, fob-ify) my car and void my warranty, though I seriously considered saving up to install a killer sound system. And all I ended up doing was tinting the three back windows.

So much has happened in my car. So many good conversations, bad conversations, good trysts, bad trysts, good music, more good music. Lots of crying. A ton of singing.

Five years later, my car is still #1 in my life!

Or is it?

Good god! I've had at least one paradigm shift within the past 18 months!