Hello Harriet, adieu Marylou. (Sniff.)

I bought a car today! Happy birthday to me! I’ve been shopping for one for a few weeks now, and man has it been stressful. Remind me not to do that again anytime soon.

I was thinking I wanted a Honda Civic because of their reliability and great MPG, but they really are not the budget cars they once were. With the money I could afford, I was going to end up with one that was 7 or 8 years old, and every one of those I saw seemed to have close to—or in some cases, well over—a hundred thousand miles on it, and since I planned on driving whatever I bought for another hundred thousand miles, I really wanted a car that hadn’t been around the block—or, you know, the earth—quite so many times.

So I started looking at the Hyundai Elantra, which is sort of like the Civic’s slightly less attractive, less popular, less well-regarded kid sister. The Ashlee to the Civic’s Jessica, if you will. But all my research—and there was a lot of it—indicated that the more recent models are every bit as safe and reliable as Hondas, while costing considerably less. So after test-driving a few, I went ahead and bought a 2004 model from a girl who was getting ready to move to Texas for school. It only has 26,000 miles on it! My mechanic said the engine still looks new! I just took out my first bank loan ever and I am going to be totally nervous every time I drive now!

But I knew it was going to be my car when I was test-driving it, because: I was remembering how, when Hyundais were first being sold in the US, their ad campaigns said something about the name rhyming with “Sunday”; that made me think of the band the Sundays; my last car was named (in part) after a singer; therefore, if I bought this car I would name it Harriet, after the Sundays’ singer Harriet Wheeler. (WHEELer. Huh? Right?) And once she was named, she had to be my car.

I wouldn’t say I’m as big a fan of the Sundays as I am of Mary Lou Lord, although I do own Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic on cassette (hey, it was the ‘90s), and “Here’s Where The Story Ends” is still a fucking awesome song. But that seems appropriate, because no car I own will ever quite measure up to Marylou.

And what has become of her? I hear you ask. Well, her water pump went a few months back, and my mechanic told me it would cost more to replace it than she was worth. That’s when I started saving for a down payment on another car. I kept driving her, though, but I had to dump 2 gallons of water in the radiator every time I did. Then a few weeks ago we had some really cold weather, and that seemed to be the final nail in Marylou’s coffin. Since then I’ve had to take the bus everywhere, which, when you’re carrying four bags from the grocery store, is not fun.

Anyway, I will miss Marylou. She was the best car I ever had. In the 9 years I owned her, I never had to do any major repairs. She never once broke down and stranded me anywhere. And she carried me and all my worldly possessions across the frakking continent three times.

The first of those transcontinental journeys inspired a song that I think is one of the best I ever wrote. It’s sort of a response to Springsteen’s “Thunder Road”; it’s called “Mother Road”. In memory of Marylou, I present the lyrics here.

I’m shivering in the cold Nevada twilight.
I’m shaking the desert dust out of my boots, remembering how I
Stood crying beneath a New York City streetlight
When summer’s soft lover set me free with some dissembling. Now I
Would like to write a poignant line about my lover’s eyes,
But instead I’ll drive, ‘cause I’m gonna try to make Point Reyes by sunrise.

I’m seven days out of Jersey, late September.
I left with Old Glory flying high and all my debts forgiven.
I’m trying hard not to think about October.
What’s done, it stays done, and what may come’s a highway yet undriven.
The Winnemucca sand beneath my feet is cool and dry,
And the secret stars are spinning in the clear Nevada sky.

So I drive, thinking back twenty-five hundred miles or so
To deep Pennsylvania where the clouds gathered dark and low.
Just out of Youngstown lightning blazed down from heaven like a column of fire.
As the sky split wide open holy water started pouring down
And I came clean into Cleveland, cathedral town.
Walked through those doors, folks were praying to the sound of a rock ‘n’ roll choir.
And I started singing:

Mary, Mary, quite complacent. How does your garden grow?
With pretty little girlies in blue jeans all in a row.
Mary, Mary, queen of springtime, it’s autumn now, your garden has died.
Well plant your seeds and pray for redemption but I’m gonna ride.
‘Cause Mother Road welcomes her daughters with arms open wide.

I dumped my blues down in Memphis and jumped the Mississippi.
I lost Old Glory in Oklahoma City.
Saw Cadillacs rusting, sang a Lone Justice tune.
Poor Texas Panhandle groom’s got no bride to marry;
She’s living it up on the neon strip in Tucumcari.
The crows in the Canyon hanging under the moon…
I know they’ll fly soon.

If I meet the ghost of Kerouac in North Beach,
I’d like to share a drink or two, ‘cause it’s been quite a long ride
To California from a Jersey Shore beach,
But I’ve got Marylou and Rose of Sharon right alongside.
There may not be a promised land beneath the western sun,
But it’s all right, the highway’s bright, and our story’s just begun.
Can’t you hear us singing:

Mary, Mary, quite complacent. How does your garden grow?
With pretty little girlies in blue jeans all in a row.
Mary, Mary, queen of springtime, it’s autumn now, your garden has died.
Well plant your seeds and pray for redemption but I’m gonna ride.
‘Cause Mother Road welcomes her daughters with arms open wide.
Mother Road welcomes her daughters with arms open wide.
Mother Road, I am your daughter, my arms open wide.