Ode to our Saturn

I'd like to take a moment to talk about my husbands car. AKA "the green crap box". I was the one to actually buy the car, 10 or 11 years ago, after I graduated from college. It didn't take long for it to deteriorate and therefore, I generously and unselfishly passed it on to my husband and got myself a new one. (wink) But everytime I get into that car I fall in love again. I refuse to let him sell it because it bears the marks of so many events in our lives. For instance, the back seat belt was yanked out of the wall when I was in total pain from a kidney stone, en route to the hospital. The bottom is completely rusted out because of the salt on the roads, when we lived in Chicago. You cannot use the lock on the passenger side because someone tried to break into the car, when we lived downtown. Good times. The brakes turned to shit because of all the red lights conveniently located at the BOTTOM of a steep hill, now that we live in the hill country. The middle a/c vents don't work. It's so noisy you can hear it coming down the street from a mile away...literally. The cd player won't eject my husbands rap cd, so the whole time I'm driving with the kids in the back, I'm cringing when the F-bomb is dropped every five seconds. The driver-side visor is peeling away, revealing some flakey orange crap that falls in your eyes when you pull the visor down. Underneath the orange flaky crap is cardboard...wow, Saturn spared no expense, huh? And last night, my husband was the victim of a random drive-by deering. If you live in the hill country, you know exactly what I'm talking about. The deer was either incredibly stupid or suicidal. The deer broke off the side mirror and dented in the door so that we cannot open it anymore. If you recall, I mentioned that the passenger lock is busted too. Therefore, the only way into the car is through the trunk. Can you imagine my poor husband popping the trunk and climbing in, at his work's parking lot?! Hysterical! The other employees are probably thinking, "what the hell do they actually pay those Senior Engineers?" And yet, we still love the "green crap box" and are not even considering buying a new one. We'll keep ragging this one out until it dies on the side of the road and is beyond repair. We love you, you nasty hooptie! Keep going, girlfriend!!