I drive a 1990 Oldsmobile.
Here's why: It was my grandmother's.
She died in 2004, nearly 101 years old. I loved her very, very much. I do not think my love for her is why I got the car.
I think I got that enormous, heavy, super-reliable, nearly-antique car because my aunt and mother were worried about me. I was living in D.C. without one, you see, having sold my old car when I left the country.
And I was doing fine, but then I suddenly had a car. An awesome car, of which I am weirdly proud, since I have nothing whatever to do with its awesomeness. I had cousins who perhaps needed it more, but suddenly, it was my car, and I was in love.
I never get into that car without thinking of Granny. A couple of times, that has made me cry. Mostly, though, it just makes me grin.
(Belated) Day 29 of my month of gratitude: I am grateful for my 1990 Oldsmobile and all it represents: Reliable transportation, connection to my grandmother, and the sweet thoughtfulness of my mother and aunt.