aLightningbug

The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt for Thursday, August 14 is The Name’s The Thing. It asks:

Have you ever named an inanimate object? (Your car? Your laptop? The volleyball that kept you company while you were stranded in the ocean?) Share the story of at least one object with which you’re on a first-name basis.

Oh looky here! I found a blog post. How’d that get here? Finally.

My blog has a name does that count? I don’t really talk to it or anything, though. I guess I write to it, sort of. If it has a name, but I don’t talk to it is that OK? Somehow I feel like if it has a name I should talk to it … at least sometimes.

My first car had a name. I called it Sparky. I know it’s probably not a very original name for a car. Sparks. Spark plugs. I wanted it to keep working. Keep having a spark. So it was Sparky. It was a maroon, four-door sedan. Previously owned by a traveling salesman. Nice, but a lot of miles.

I usually didn’t talk to Sparky unless I was alone with it. What I crummy friend I was to my car! I was one of those friends. I’ll only talk to you when my other friends aren’t around. Sorry about that, Sparky.

I don’t talk to my current car very often. It doesn’t exactly have a name except maybe, “Car.” I’ve said, “Sorry about that, Car,” if I let the oil get a little low. Or “I really wish people would stop crashing into you, Car.”

Because for a while it seemed like it was a magnet for other drivers to crash into it. I don’t know if it’s because it’s fairly low to the ground or if because other people weren’t paying attention to what they were doing. I threatened to tape bicycle flags to all four corners to increase my visibility. I was stopped at a red light one time and bam! A woman rear-ended me.

A giant forklift was the last to crash into it. Just the tire hit it. I was driving at the time, so it startled me. Car handled it well. I’ve been warned not to drive too close to the airport. I aim to follow that advice. Car and I need all the help we can get.