A Viking send off was out of the question. I checked.

Dear Faithful Reader,

You may recount many tales the Sisters had riding around in Dave Durango. He was an awesome vehicle and he treated us well for ten solid years. He carted us on many road trips – around our own state and all the way to San Antonio and  back.

We loved Dave.

Sadly, Dave grew old and tired and a bit cantankerous and it was finally decided that Dave would be sent to a farm to live out the rest of his life, running around in the fields with other Durangos, maybe chasing VW rabbits.

He’d lived a very good life. We lamented his passing. Ava had a harder time giving him up even that I did.

“We love Dave,” she kept saying. That was beyond a doubt. We did love Dave, except that Dave kept over heating and blowing through oil and I was tired of always driving with one eye on the gauges.

Enter The Chrysler 300. A grown up car. I’ve been driving the family truckster in one form or another for the last 15 years.

Her name is Leanidas, because she’s one of the 300. Please tell me you get that reference. Sometimes people laugh when I tell them this line and I can clearly tell they don’t get the joke.

Lea, it turns out, is a bit bossy. It stormed last night and consequently this morning it was chilly. A drop in temperature can drop the air pressure in your tires. Seriously. Look it up. Lea didn’t like this, not one bit.

I received an email from her demanding “Immediate and urgent attention.” She informed me in no uncertain terms she’d like 3 more pounds of pressure in her left front tire and she’d like it now. Right now. 10 minutes ago would have been better.

Dave never yelled at me like that. His email would have been more like your stoned cousin – “Dude, you know, like, when you have a sec, float a little more air in one of my tires. No biggie. Cheers!”

Cars have definitely changed in the last 10 years!