I sold the Mini Cooper this week. I cried like a baby. I'm not the kind of person to get attached to things. I can easily give away clothing, shoes, jewelry that I haven't worn in a year. I can even easily leave this home. But that Mini had sentimental meaning to me. For one thing, it was a dream car. I always wanted a convertible. For another thing, Mr. Wild Dingo willingly bought it for me with only a few small groans about it being more expensive than his BMW.
Maggie prefered the drivers seat when she sat in the Mini. Of course she would.
We bought the Mini when Maggie was still alive. She really dug the wheels. She loved the top down and pretty much thought it was her personal car.
Later, Loki and Juno loved it in their own special way.
Driving Miss Juno
"Who are you calling a sissy-dog? Come a little closer. I’ll give you 4 reasons not to call me a sissy: cuspid, inscisor, molar and fang."
"I'm hotter than a 2-dollar pistol."
"Knock me a kiss kitten."
Juno showed the mini a little extra love.
"I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm just sitting here, minding my own husky-ness."
There are a lot of memories in that car: long road trips, bike races, dog adventures and the regular stops from law enforcement. But I'll never forget the feeling of freedom that came with motoring along NorCal's notorious Highway 17 daily, carving the the road's steep corners with ease, with the top down, the sun shining on my face and the wind blowing through my hair. Next to Mr. Wild Dingo and the beasts, that Mini was home to me.
I'll miss you Mini. But I won't miss the speeding tickets.
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