my unavoidable fear of new things

Driving, driving, driving. I feel like ever since I moved to the Bay Area all I do is drive. I should have felt like that in LA, but I have to honestly say that I think the traffic up here is worse. Maybe it's worse because I want it to be better. I admit that having a new car really improves the quality of my time driving, but I still would rather not spend 2 hours a day behind the wheel of a car, no matter what car it is. We've had the Matrix for a week and it already has over 500 miles on it. Seeing the odometer reach that point gave me a slight panic attack, which is silly, because we bought the car so we could drive it. It wasn't until I spoke with my mother on Sunday that I realized where my irrational fear of putting miles on my car came from. I told her I had already put over 400 miles on the car (you always want to keep the numbers lower when talking to Mom. don't ask why). She replied with "Wow, maybe you should start driving the old car again." At first I felt comforted, relieved that someone understood me, but then after letting it sink in I discovered how stupid I must have sounded telling my buddies at work that I don't want to have too many miles on the car. We bought a new car to feel safer and enjoy our time on the road, we bought a new car so we could DRIVE IT. But now my mother was urging me to follow my wacky bliss of keeping new things new and leaving it parked outside the front window to admire every day, maybe take it on some trips to the market... on the weekend.

Instantly I got a picture in my head of:
me turning the chair in the living room to face out the front window, a spectacular view of the parking lot. There I am, in the comfy chair, sipping my morning coffee and wearing an oversized white terry cloth robe while listening to classical music, just staring at the car. I am smiling with only one small corner of my mouth, a coy smile that everyone who owns something shiny and new should have. I finish my coffee, stand up and move closer to the window to gently touch it, as if to say "good morning Matrix", and then get ready for work. As I'm leaving the apartment I lock the front door and turn around swiftly to look at the slickness that is our new car. My hair is windblown and sticks to my pristine lipgloss. I use the key fob to unlock the power doors, a feeling which I have never known before. I smile as I admire the way the sun hits the unscratched black paint and shines through the moonroof. Making sure that the new car still looks new I use the fob and lock the car back up. I walk down the street to my crappy old Saturn and it begins to rain. I scrape my knuckles on the ground as I get into the teal blue dented car. I drive to work trying to listen to the tinny radio over the whine of the engine, thinking about how uncomfortable the 10 year old seats are. I notice the stains on the seat next to me, wondering what the hell they are from. By the time I get to work I have lower back spasms, my hair is disheveled and my clothes are wrinkled... and have holes in them. Smoke pours out of the hood. I stand in the parking lot with tears streaming down my face and mumbling "why? why?" as passerbys stare at me and comment on the weird color of my car.

I can't be that person. I'm going to face my fears. I refuse to be timid about putting miles on the Matrix. As Joanne asked last night while I was driving home (from a kick-ass tap dance class): "Don't you buy a car to put miles on it?" It was the most simply stated question and the answer is pretty clear.
So as I hit 540 miles today it didn't feel so bad.

I do however have this other problem that taunts me Monday - Friday, twice a day. As I'm driving past the Oakland Coliseum there is this giant electronic sign alerting me to the fact that Britney Spears will be performing there ON MY BIRTHDAY. I think it would be fun. But maybe it wouldn't. Would it be? hence my dilemma.