Red Ross

I loved the way the trunk popped open so gently. And quietly. And the way the buttons on the radio had never been touched before me. No one else owned it. It was all mine. Oh and the smell. The smell, the smell, the smell. The pristine carpets. There wasn't anywhere I didn't want to go while I was in it. It could make me instantly happy.

It was the first car I ever bought myself. A 200something Toyota Corolla - fire engine red. Like many decisions I make, I rushed into buying it. I did a minimal amount of research, got myself down to Center City Toyota and bought it. Driving home on Walnut (or whichever 'nut' street leads out of the city..), I was in love. Trish named her, after a F*R*I*E*N*D*S episode, naturally.

It was 2004 and I had been out of college for just about a year. Working at V-SPAN in King of Prussia and drinking most of my pay on most weekends. And Thursday nights. And sometimes all day Sunday. I know. I too cringe at the thought of the money, time and brain power - all gone as a result. But we live and learn, right?

And learn, I sure did. I lost control, plain and simple. I was trying to make it into work each day at six am, but I (some nights) wasn't home until after three. Things were changing at work, I was offered a new job that sounded oh-so-perfect and (again, hastily) accepted it. I couldn't keep up with myself and, before I knew it, I - quite literally - crashed.

In one terrible decision on a December night, I managed to total my brand new car, self-inflict massive amounts of guilt and shame, and place myself in a category I'd never envisioned I'd be in.

I miss the car and what it represented for me. But would I go back and change things?

Some mistakes are made in indelible ink. Those are undoubtedly the most important.