It’s official! My car hit 150,000 miles today. In a perfect world, it would live to see another 150,000. I have to admit I have a strong attachment to my car. Most people don’t know this about me, but I always see inanimate objects as having feelings. As a child, I thought my stuffed animals and toys had feelings. As a result, I probably had some of the best treated toys of any kid. And I’m still like that. I still take really good care of my things and yes, I still consider inanimate objects as having feelings, so it’s really only natural that I have a strong attachment to my car. The idea of it sitting alone, broken down in some junk yard depresses me. I hope it lasts for a long time, but I can’t be sure it will. I almost feel like it has some incurable disease and all I can do is worry about its quality of life as it nears the end. Not only is it now (technically) high mileage, but it needs a transmission overhaul, two new axles, it has a massive size whole somewhere in the washer fluid reservoir so it all runs out after being filled and it burns oil like it works for BP. Not to mention the rattling. But I love it and I’ll be very sad to see it go. Plus, while my next ideal car is a Ford Escape Hybrid, it’ll never replace the attachment I have to my salvage Saturn. And, not having a car payment is pretty great too. Although never knowing if you’re going to actually make it to your destination isn’t all that great.