Beautiful Mr. Blue

Mr. Blue and I were first acquainted when I was a fairly young girl. He was with my grandmother at that time  and I remember thinking that he was very pretty for a car with his deep sparkly blue paint and attractive contours. On occasion I would drive with my grandma to the store or to the park when she was babysitting me and the seats were always satisfactorily soft. But it smelled like my grandma's garage, musty and stale. And his glove box was always overflowing with expired coupons for the various fast food restaurants in town. Years later my grandmother decided to put down the keys for good although it was more of a doctors order, but she would never admit to it. And so Mr. Blue was passed on to me, just in time for my first year of university. It was a jolt for him, leaving the parking spot at the old folks home and moving into a world of fast paced academia. Rappers strewn along the once scrupulously clean floors and a constant stream of loud passengers. His speakers were suddenly channeling out loud melodies and his tires spun and turned lively and tirelessly. I am tempted, against what rationality says, that Mr. Blue feels thankful for the new breath of life. He shows it by being very enduring and causing me very little strife. Indeed him and I are a team.
This past month has been an exceptional  trial of our strength as a team. The road to Vermilion Field Station is the Valley of Death for a car of Mr. Blue's age and stature, but he has yet to let me down. I think sometimes there is a moment between a car and it's driver when real love and fondness strikes. And there is a moment when one realizes that they spend too much time living alone in the forest and perhaps have begun to slip off into the deep end and for me both of these moments came at the same time. It was a hot summer day and I was on my  way to pick up a local birder in town to come help me out in the field. I loaded up Mr. Blue and headed down the sandy drive. Because it was so nice out there were quite a few people around the establishment for a day of swimming and rock hunting, however I was determined to make it out without talking to any of them because who wants to talk to people milling around their front yard? It's very invasive. But because of the heavy traffic the drive had become a sand pit and Mr. Blue sunk up to his front bumper. We were stuck fast and the tourists were all watching. Imagine a crowd of people watching you get stuck in your own drive way! Go to a local beach, sheesh!
I grabbed a shovel and rake from the garage and began to shovel with fierce determination. It was an act of pure self reliance; I was in a situation and there were no phone lines, cell service or WiFi and I was determined prove myself capable of complete Independence. I dug for more than a half an hour, on hands and knees, shoveling out piles of sand with my hands and coaxing on Mr. Blue the whole time. Finally I reversed out of the pit, grinding the gears of Mr. Blue to a point of near destruction I'm sure, but he never let me down. No sir, he was as determined as I was. Next I had to maneuver him up and around the pit which took a considerable amount of speed and gave his old, rusty shocks a run for their money. Once we were home free I knew that Mr. Blue was a very special car and that he and I could get through anything after that episode. Oh Mr. Blue, you are the world's greatest car.