It seems like yesterday that Roxy rolled into our lives, with only four hundred miles on her odometer and all of the tread still on her tires. Back then, Chris and I were biased against cars, seeing no need for them in our walk-friendly city of San Francisco.
Over the past six months, Roxy has become a part of our family in a way that we never expected. After all, she is just a “brilliant silver” 2010 Ford Fusion- a mere material possession. Maybe it’s the fact that we practically lived in her as we traversed the country during the final days before our marriage ceremony. Or maybe it’s that she represented a connection to the country at large every time we passed a Ford dealership. It may sound stupid to you, but it is very real to us.
We spent our last moments with Roxy on the coldest, dreariest day of the year. We took some pictures, shot some video, and listened to her Sync voice one more time. As she drove off to meet her maker (Jason Camp of the Los Angeles Media Fleet Division), Chris and looked in the opposite direction to keep from bawling. We will miss Roxy, but the bottom line cost of purchasing a car of her quality just doesn’t jive with our current financial goals.
To borrow from Marley and Me, I have these final words about Roxy, arguably the world’s greatest car:
“What I really wanted to say was how this car had touched our souls and taught us some of the most important lessons of our lives. Roxy taught us about living each day with unbridled exuberance and joy, about seizing the moment and following your heart. She taught me to appreciate the simple things- a drive into the sunset, singing along to the radio, and traveling between the cities of the people you love most.”
Side note: To all the asshats who thought we changed our name to Ford because we wanted to get free stuff, I hope you’ll now find someone else to verbally assault. We’re Fordless Fords… and we’re cool with that.
We’re just a few weeks away from our actual wedding ceremony and all the details are finally being officially decided. Pre-wedding dinner, check. Parental meeting, check. Afternoon rodeo, check.
At this point, if you are not a regular reader, you may be saying, “Wait, I thought they did a road trip instead of a wedding.” Actually we did a road trip in lieu of a huge event, visiting many of our out of state family and friends, but are still having a ceremony and dinner for some local family and friends.
Speaking of guests, we are also getting RSVPs from the invitees. Understandably, there are some regrets. But we have had at least one pleasant surprise – Roxy will be at our wedding!
Monday was the original date of her return to the media fleet, but Ford Motor Company has graciously allowed us to keep her for a few more weeks so we can keep Wedding Road Trip going. We’ve continued interviewing friends and family in California, and Roxy Fusion will be helping us visit places like Fresno, Los Angeles, Marin, and San Luis Obispo. If you’re coming to the wedding, be sure to say hello to her- she’ll be driving us up the aisle.
Just kidding. We’re not corporate shills. 
Roxy is solely responsible for eliminating my Fat Car Ass. She drives me to the gym when I don’t feel like getting up in the morning and encourages me to go to the mountains for long afternoon hikes. While we have several days left of interviews and meet-ups, Roxy has promised me that she’ll take me to exercise every day, no matter where we are.
This morning, as she drove Chris and me to Crunch, she even complimented me on my slightly-more-toned physique. We then shared a b0nding moment as Lady Gaga played over the radio. When the song finished, Chris uttered a sentence that stopped me cold:
“I could live outside of the City now, I mean, if you want to. I don’t think I mind driving anymore.”
I’m sorry, what? This from the guy who swore he’d never live outside of the City, would never drive a car more than once a month, and would never consider living somewhere like Napa or Sonoma and commute in a few days a week.
If he tells me that he’ll also live in a gated community (the equivalent of death to all urban planners), I will fully believe that Ford has been serving him the good punch behind my back.
Everyone who has owned a car in San Francisco has a scary parking story. Mine took place five years ago in North Beach, an especially hilly section of the city. I was parallel parking on a downhill slope when I “tapped” the bumper of the car in front of me. “Tapping” is common practice with San Francisco parking, which is why most people’s bumpers look like rubber Etch-A-Sketches.
So I ever-so-carefully tapped the bumper of the car in front of me, edging into the spot. In the matter of about two seconds, the vehicle shot down the hill, up onto the sidewalk and into a nearby planter. Luckily (or unluckily, perhaps?) there were no tourists on the sidewalk at that moment or they would have been as flat as road maps.
Needless to say, you can understand why I was nervous to take Roxy out for a spin on the streets of San Francisco. After all, just because she was a good highway vehicle for six weeks doesn’t guarantee that she can charge up the hills and take the hairpin corners on some of the busiest streets in California. However, having not driven in a day and a half, I was itching to get back on the road. In a strange way, Roxy has become like the family pet, requiring food, water, and a good spin around the block.
Roxy did not disappoint. I was impressed with how she held her ground on the top of Divisadero Street, which is so steep that you can see all of San Francisco in one glance before diving back down into the City (and sometimes into the car in front of you). She also earned my respect by being uncannily good at finding the perfect parking spaces. She slid into spots right in front of the gym, the grocery store, and the post office.
In short, Roxy completely failed me. Why? Because I still want to keep her. I was hoping that after taking her on a tour of the City, she’d cough, sputter, and begrudgingly chug her way around. But no. She fits in with all of the BMWs, Audis, and Priuses like she belongs here.
Maybe she does?
We’re back in San Francisco, something that inspires mixed emotions for both Chris and me. While Chris is off at work earning his keep, I’m here at my apartment, catching up on episodes of The Bachelorette, working on freelance assignments, and plotting the in-state visits that will take place over the next thirty-six days. Apparently, there’s no rest for the wicked (or the Wedding Road Trippers). Roxy is parked outside on the street, basking in the late afternoon sun. I think she’s happy to have a bit of a rest before we take her out on the road once again. She’s not much of a city driver like her cousin the Fusion Hybrid, but she’ll do navigate the San Francisco streets if we make her.
Dear god. That may have been the cheesiest sentence ever written.
But not the cheesiest sentence ever said, which I’ll have to credit to Jillian of The Bachelorette. As I was typing, she uttered the following puke worthy sentence:
“Every woman dreams of the day when she’s in the kitchen, worried about cooking the perfect meal, and a man walks up behind her and gives her a kiss.”
Jillian, honey, this is not 1959. It’s 2009, and all I dream of is Chris in the kitchen, cooking the perfect meal as I read yet another trashy ChickLit novel while simulataneously eating a handful of carb-free fudge. (hey, this is my fantasy- it could exist.)
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