We have an unnatural love affair with our car.
We know it’s not healthy to be this unconditionally smitten for something that – despite our hopes of a self-aware, Terminator 2-esque miracle – doesn’t have the required emotional range to reciprocate human feelings. We’ve come to terms with the fact that Jane Honda will never love us back, but that doesn’t stop us from treating her like the Queen she is anyway.
Please don’t judge.
We love our Honda Fit so much, in fact, we’ve decided to make her our surrogate home for the foreseeable future. We’ve managed to stuff every meticulously molded plastic nook and cranny with the gear, clothes and supplies we think we’ll need to survive as nomadic road trippers. We’ve come up with a few reasons why we’ve garnered such admiration for this speedy silver bullet, and why Jane Honda is the perfect road trip automobile (van life? more like trash can life, right?)
A Little Bit of Man, A Whole Lot of Woman
I’m not afraid to admit it: most people wouldn’t consider a silver Honda Fit to be a particularly masculine automobile. Not only am I not afraid to admit it, I embrace it. Jane Honda exudes just the right amount of manly fervor to keep it categorically away from the likes of the VW Beetle or the PT Cruiser, but also caries with it a swift and cunning confidence that screams “I AM WOMAN, HEAR ME ROAR.” I’m pretty sure this is what Katy Perry was talking about. The androgynous nature of our car allows both Iza and I to relate to Jane Honda on a deeply personal level. And that’s not at all weird.
Baby Got Hatch Back
I gotta say. I’m an ass man. It’s one of the thousands of reasons why I fell in love with Iza (sorry babe, but you know it is), and it adds to the list of reasons why Jane Honda is such a worthy road companion. Hatch backs are key for schlepping gear in and out of our car unhindered. And with bulky, yet functional monstrosities like the Wander Küche to drag around, a big back door is a must-have.
It Cleans Up Nice
We are seriously concerned about our home on wheels quickly becoming a vessel for heaps of discarded Cliff Bar wrappers and toll receipts. Not to mention the scores of different varieties of local muck and mud we’ll be dragging in from the Nation’s national parks. It takes about 15 minutes to complete a deep clean and have Jane Honda looking like the Belle of the ball. Yes, we have timed ourselves.
It Goes Where RVs Can’t
We’ve been warned of the RVers. I’m not speaking from first hand experience, but apparently their make-up isn’t exactly what you’d call demographically compatible (I’m talking about old people). In all actuality, Iza and I can’t wait to fraternize with all walks of humanity, but it’s nice to know if we want to escape the dull, mind-numbing vibrato of a septic tank being pumped, we have the cunning set of wheels to make it happen.
Gas, Gear, and Giddyup
Speaking in strictly practical terms (and ignoring all uninhibited bias), Jane Honda has the fuel efficiency, deceivingly voluminous interior, and nimble spunk that lends itself well to a life on the road. We’ve learned to extract these tiny comforts from the Fit among the dearth of unfamiliarity we’re poised to encounter on our travels.
. . . . .
We love you, Jane Honda, and we don’t care who knows it. May your parts and pieces stay lubricated and fully operational so as not to strand us in the desert with a limited knowledge to put you back together again. We promise to treat your real nice if you promise to carry us safely to our next destination.
And now I’m talking to a car. Judge away.