I remember
Vicky. The way her oversized chrome feet glimmered and shone when you would
roll past me on those stifling July days on New Jersey streets. You loved that
car as much as I thought that I loved you. You kept her clean, giving her a
bath one a week. Twice when it rained. She was always neat. Proper. I remember
riding around past Burger King and Walgreens, blasting Meek Mills. He was a
newby then. A break out artist. Something fresh. Like what was happening between
us. The music was so loud I couldn’t hear myself think. So loud I couldn’t feel
my phone vibrate on my brown legs. But I heard him. Feeling like the words to
the songs you chose off that album had been picked for me. They weren’t. They
were for everybody. For every girl. For every pretty face you had ever seen.
They were never for me.
I remember Cammie.
Silver and bright. She still had the new car smell. I shared so many firsts
with you and that car. First kiss. First love. First car. I was hurt when I
learned that I wasn’t going to be the first woman to enjoy her heated seats.
But I’ll take second place to your sisters. But she was there through
everything. She drove those many miles from Philly to DC. She took you away
when you learned of my infidelities. She dried your tears and drowned out your
cries with the sound of Rick Ross after our heated fights. Live Fast. Die
Young. She carried away our boxes of memories when you told me it was over. You’ve
had enough. Pictures. Teddy bears. Clothes you left behind. She carried you
away from me. I miss Cammie. I don’t even think she remembers me. I’ll never
forget her.
I remember
the thunder of your Black Honda Coupe. She never had a name. Your racing car.
Your bad boy car. Your drug dealing car. I loved the roar of the engine. I love
the way you switched gears. I loved the speed. How fast you and Her swept me
off my feet. I remember hearing you coming from around the corner. Anxious. I
remember the butterflies. You and Her would always bring me something special.
Wendys Frosty’s. Specially made burgers. McDonalds Fries. Well placed kisses. I
loved when you and Her would come home to me. She was ferocious, but oh so
sweet. Just like you.
I remember
when she started to go. Over heating on dark highways. Windows that wouldn’t
roll down. Balding tires. Peeling tint. Leaking coolant and oil. We had to let
our Honda go. We’ve upgraded since then. Gotten something new now. But Ms. Honda
is still in our hearts. I still hear you revving that powerful engine in the
recesses of my mind.
So many
cars. A Burgundy Buick. A Black Caddy. A White Pontiac. A Black Civic Coupe. A
Green Acura with the passenger side door banged in. A Lexus Jeep. Many men.
Many cars. All with their own stories to tell. Something so simple. Giving me a
ride. Taking me to dinner. To a movie. Sneaking me into your mother’s basement.
All the late night “chill” sessions. So many destinations.
I only have
one ride now. His gray Acura. Tint black as midnight. Always parked outside our
home. As if waiting for me. Ms. Ebony. She’s my ride for now. And I’ll be
riding that girl until the wheels fall off. Believe that.
