Buying the farm...

"I had a farm in Africa at the foot of the Ngong Hills..."    So begins Isak Dinesen’s memoir of her life in British East Africa.  That phrase has become a way of remembering things and events that I hold dear. 

In 1972 I had a white Mustang with red interior and a stick shift four-on-the-floor.  I loved it.  In 1972 I also had a baby girl.  Two doors + car seat + baby = Great Frustration.  That lasted about two years.  Now in 2012 I have a red Mustang.  I also have a baby, my grandson Daniel, 3 years old.  The Great Frustration returned amplified by my increased age and decreased agility.  It lasted almost two years.  The Mustang, that is.  The frustration took considerably less time to come to the point of no return.  Enter the Nissan Rogue

I have had several “farms in Africa.”  I still have a heart-tug when I think about the green Nissan Titan truck I traded for the Mustang.  It was a blonde moment.  I am not blonde, but I had several months of a fling with it.   I loved that truck.  It carried me the 1,000+ miles by myself to Florida and back when the aforementioned baby girl was sick with Dengue fever.  It was empowering.  It was big. I couldn’t back it up worth a darn, but I was queen of the road in it.

I’ve had an assortment of modes of transportation that have been “farms”…my Honda scooter, station wagon, minivan, SUVs.  Each has had its place and done its job.  Each has its kaleidoscope of memories.

So now I return to my roots.  My red ginger hair which is mine regardless of whatever is really underneath.  (I don’t even want to know.)  And my new crossover SUV.  It’s who I am.

So, it’s not me in the red Mustang any more. I’m just buying another farm.