I've often made the comparison between myself and the Nova, the lessens of self to those of the car. It perhaps sounds shallow and banal to someone who doesn't give a damn about cars or classics, but here's what I say to that: the Nova isn't a classic, and this week, she transcended the status of "car." Lessons come in so many forms.
Everyone that knows me, actually KNOWS me, knows that I drove that thing in high school, through college, out to California, and in daily traffic in LA. They know that it was once taken from me by an ex who thought he had the right because he had put some work into the car with a shitty magazine that needed a topic. Six months and a flat bed later, minus an engine and interior, etc, I got it back. She had been gutted, and so had I.
I have replaced three engines in that car, put about 100,000 miles on her, and all in all, she has actually never put my feet in the dirt. That car has outlasted leased Lexus vehicles, apartments, boyfriends, fiances, jobs, the death of my best friend and protector---the Rottweiler, Circe, multiple nights out in Hollywood, and before that, Homecoming, Prom, the expedition to college, the move to Los Angeles, the day I took my first script to Emmett Furla Films.
And she has been the only constant. She has been an unwavering force of consistency.
The last blog I wrote talked about the gas leak in the Nova and my frustrations with her, and I did, actually, put her up for sale. I've received a few inquiries on her, and each one I've countered with "no." The universe, it appears, has sent me a few messages regarding her purpose in my life.
This week, 2 things happened. First, a massive pit bull appeared on my street at the same time that school lets out, and little bitty school kids and their mothers were scared silly. Big dogs with gargantuan heads do not frighten me, so I lasso'd the culprit. After walking him around the neighborhood for hours, it became clear that there was no owner to claim him nearby. No one recognized this big boy. He was pliable and amiable, so I postulated that he must have an owner, and the next day we planned to go to the shelter to scan the microchip. After all, if any of my dogs got out, I would be frantically searching the shelters for them. It's only fair, I convinced myself.
He spent the night at my house, my own pit bull feverishly trying to attack him through the door, him sweetly ignoring her futile efforts. The next day, we were going to make out way to the shelter...but...he was too big, and slightly stinky, for the Jag. So...the Nova...was the chariot of rescue. As he climbed into the back seat I realized that my girl, Circe, was the last dog to ride in the Chevy, and that the Nova was performing a task that my new---and very expensive----Jag---couldn't.
And she did it flawlessly.
The dog is fine, by the way. He was chipped, and the owner was contacted. If for any reason he isn't claimed, the Nova will fire back into action and we'll go get him and bring him home---errrrr---back to my house for rehoming. He is, after all, too good not to love.
Next...my boyfriend's "rock solid" Jeep grenaded. As if on cue, the Nova raised her hand as if to say "You need me. I am here. I have outlived all of them, and I always will." He's never been a fan of the Nova, and in fact, is the person in my stories that said of the Nova at the show years ago, "Why is THAT thing here." I of course defended her honor by saying, "fuck off." However, he has never understood her. Not really.
The Nova carried him diligently to work, no frills, no AC, no radio, no power windows---but when he returned, smiling, he said, "The Nova is kind of a hoot..." and then he wanted to drive it again, and again...it was clear.
She gets under your skin. She is flawed, and imperfect. She is nothing if not strange, and underestimated, and infuriating, and wonderful. She is not beautiful exactly, but something about her makes you look at her. She has been abused, and lived through so much---and the wisdom and experience she can share is worth the patience of waiting. She is mine---she is my counterpart. She has rescued me again this week and reminded me what's actually important---the lives of the helpless, helping those you love, and loyalty. I forget time to time, and she finds a way to teach me again.
Skeptically Yours.
