Susan Senator

So I bought the Volvo XC90. In order to do so, I had to agree to a draconian financial agreement with Ned, which reduced my clothing and hair expenditures by 2/3. So I will be going around almost naked and with perpetual bad hair days. Not really. I believe I have enough new stuff from the last three years to get by on this feeble budget; that being said, I am already into May in terms of what I’ve spent in the last few weeks.

But it is worth it. I love the car. I call her The Amazon: she is a strong, sleek, beautiful warrior woman. I had to compare car insurance polices to get only the best one for her. She has a mouth-watering soft pale leather interior, a crystal-clear sound system, seats that are quick to warm with the touch of a button. Her top opens to the sun. She is fast and sure-footed. When I see her sitting by the side of the road, I sigh happily that she is mine.

She also has deep thirst for gasoline, which is something I hate about her; the miles per gallon in the ads were better than what I’m getting. So perhaps she is a bit duplicitous, but I, of the ever fudged budget can hardly throw stones.

Something happened with The Amazon that threatened to sour me on her. I discovered that the lease on my old Volvo, the Party Slipper, (my V70), was not actually up until August. I discovered this too late, after I’d already taken delivery on my Amazon, believing the Slipper was up in February. So now I have to pay for the Slipper’s lease until August. My thinking is that the dealer, Lee Volvo of Wellesely, from whom I’d leased both cars, should have known this and should have said something. If nothing else, he is profiting from holding onto my Slipper until August, when presumably he will turn it into Chase Manhattan, who holds the lease. While I pay $441 a month for a car I no longer possess.

Lee prides itself on treatment of the customer. Lee was ecstatic that I was a return customer. Why then do they not return my or my lawyer’s phone calls? Do they feel a bit guilty, perhaps? If nothing else, they are a shitty company that does not really care at all about the customer. Maybe you’re laughing because what could I expect from a car dealer? Well, I expected more than this almost-scam.

I let the Amazon get a little dirty, while I stewed, and it wasn’t until a friend pointed this out, saying, “Are you taking it out on her?” that I realized I wasn’t being fair to either of us — the Amazon or me. Even though she, like many good people I know, is ending up costing me far more than I bargained for, she is mine and I should be loyal to her.

So I took her for her first wash the other day, to one of those soft-touch places, because the dealer, Lee Volvo of Wellesley, MA — did I mention I hate them — told us that we should wait six months before using brushes on her, to preserve the paint job. In this car wash, an attendant drives the car for you, to the end, and you can watch the entire thing, walking along a glass-enclosed corridor next to it.

I watched the car go through each phase of her bath, from being sluiced with water, to being soaped up, and then rubbed down with cloths moving in circular fashion. But the best part was when she shot though the streaming towels and seven eager men ran forward with gray towels, rubbing and shining her softly burnished sides. Caressing her lovingly. I felt a rush of — heat and maybe even a little jealousy! To be so lovingly attended, and come out looking so dewey and radiant. I loved her as much as ever. More, now with what we’ve gone through with the circumstances of her terrible birth parents.