This winter, I finally broke down and decided to lease a new car. I loved my old car, but the constant smell of gas in the vehicle, having to drive with the windows down in sub-zero temps, and the mechanic having no idea what the cause was, drove me to pull the plug.
It’s awesome having a new car…the “new car smell” is heaven on earth. The interior is fresh and immaculate…not covered with ground up Cheerios and sticky candy wrappers. It was great at first, and then I became the paranoid new car owner.
Everywhere I had to park I made sure I was in the far corner of the lot. Of course, there’s the asshole who still parks next to you in Siberia, but for the most part there’s some sense of peace with the location and distance.
If there was someone who dared park next to my baby, I would walk around the car searching every inch like a medical exam for a ding. One day I did find a small nick in the rear passenger door. It was glaringly obvious to me however my boyfriend thought I was nuts since he couldn’t find it.
So as much as I love my car, I’m now completely obsessed with keeping the car in pristine condition. With the old car, I didn’t care if my daughter threw trash on the floor or ate in the car. Now, there is no consumption of food and absolutely no colored drinks in the back. I nearly suffered a heart attack when she accidentally spilled some dirt on the seat from a shrub we just bought.
I think I need to attend some therapy group to cure my obsession or just get the first ding out of the way and move on. Nothing too severe…maybe just a love tap with the garbage can or a neighboring tree. Wow, I am losing it…I’m planning a ding…where’s the Xanax?!
Confused Woman! 
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