The Carpool Lane:  A letter to my first car


By
 in ,

It’s that weird, sentimental time where, instead of finishing projects or studying for upcoming finals, I spend hours on end reminiscing about my life. When I’m not doing just that in the Daily Trojan newsroom as I stare blankly at the Downtown skyline or an InDesign page, I’m pondering the what-ifs and should’ve-saids in the comfort of my car. Bess, the Volkswagen Passat whose name was short for “Bessie the Banshee” — an homage to the screeching sound of her brakes when my family first got her — drives, quite literally, this column. 

So, as with all of my columns at this point, allow me to babble on about my fascination with my car, my relationship woes and a handful of puns that commuters might know. With Bess recently topping the 60,000 mile mark, here’s a letter to my Banshee that speeds down the 10 freeway:

Dear Bess,

Congratulations for burning rubber over a distance of 60,000 miles — you bring a great deal of pride to the “VW” engraved on your front bumper. You’ve survived the life-draining forces of Los Angeles traffic, the hellish dust storms en route to the California-Nevada border and dents and scratches from people who literally do not know how to park in the Downey Parking Structure. 

Like many cars, your engine hums at the crack of dawn and delivers me home safely as the moon glimmers in the night sky. However, you are more than just another hunk of metal — you are my therapist, teacher, wingwoman, guardian and best friend. 

I may not have been the best of owners — no excuses can be given on that. I’ve unnecessarily pushed you to your limits, consumed by the hubris of a childish driver who believes they can outpace every car on the road, one with regard only for the time rather than the travelers. For a columnist who brings you up in almost every rendition of this column, I should be better. I can promise to be better too, but then again, promises really can feel like empty words exchanged to appease some internal guilt. 

Time and time again, you’ve seen me fall in love, fall out of it, then subsequently back into it. You’re probably tired of that, I’d imagine. You’ve heard me yell, cry and scream — not only at the reckless cars that endanger our shared livelihoods, but at myself — at the times I could have been better, more compassionate.

But I know that, regardless, you’re always looking out for me, still blinking when I need to change lanes and kicking cold air in my face when I’m drowsy at the wheel.

You may not be able to directly answer my questions: The “What did I do wrong?” “Where could I have been better?” “Who taught you how to drive?” and the deadly “What if…?” among them. However, we can spend days, months or years running around searching for answers to questions that we will never solve, circling a roundabout with constantly changing exits but never finding the one we’re looking for. 

You taught me that reality can be like an endless road: I don’t know where the road will end up (more importantly, I don’t need to know), sure, but I get to enjoy the asphalt within eyesight, the scenery to my sides and the cars that share the road.

At the end of the day, you gave me the opportunity to accomplish what I could have never dreamed of going into my first year as a driving commuter. 

You helped ease my fears: the ones that told me I could never spend time with close friends who lived near campus or work jobs that were never close to home. You let me pursue hobbies, go on joyrides, divulge in a variety of music genres and made my time at USC more than worthwhile. While I may not have always jumped at that chance, you gave me a chance to be happy. 

So, to what some consider the conglomerate of metal, wires, glass, rubber and plastic that keeps my world spinning, a thank you should be in order. But to my best friend — the one with four wheels, screeching brakes and a less than perfect audio system — I can’t thank you enough. 

Happy trails,

Lois — the guy who needs to bring you in for an oil change.


Lois Angelo is a junior writing about the perks, downsides and necessities of the commuter lifestyle in his column, “The Carpool Lane.” He is also the managing editor at the  Daily Trojan