Ch-ch-ch-changes

I was recently forced to part with a dear friend – my daily companion, patient listener to my mediations and rants, comrade in my adventures, always willing to give his all, always smiling in that distinctive way he had – my blue steed Lapis is mine no more.

I (and all the kings horses and men) had replaced his left front wheel after that unfortunate incident on the Roosevelt Memorial bridge. I had replaced his rear suspension. When he began to hemorrhage transmission fluid and coolant, I figured it was time that I put myself out of his misery. So I drove him to the dealership and traded him (and a hefty sum of money) for a lovely white palfrey.

Her name is Lily, short for Lily-of-the-Valley. I like that flower and, in the Victorian language of flowers, it means “return of happiness.” I chose the name partly in jest on all my troubles with Lapis, but mostly to be a reminder to never lose hope since “weeping may last for the night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning.”

She has been an excellent car so far. She’s well-mannered, responsive, and petite – that is to say, very well suited for the sort of driving I do on a regular basis. She’s also quite young and eats less, so that’s some comfort as I have to start making monthly payments. All in all, I am thoroughly pleased with her.