I'm a person with a rather sordid past when it comes to cars. I come from a long line of people who know nothing about automobiles. I'm reminded of Scarlett O'hara's mule when I think of my cars. I just whip, refuse to give them oil or water until finally they keel over on the side of the road. 

We had an old brown Mercury. When we bought it a few years back, it was still in good shape. It was an old luxury car that was actually made in the same decade we were driving it. The Mercury soon developed a wide array of problems. The windows wouldn't go down anymore when you pushed the little buttons. The oil leaked and dripped on the engine, and smoke came into the car through the air conditioning vents. When you're choking and coughing on the fumes, it would be a perfect time to roll the windows down, that is, if the little buttons worked.

I bought a new car. Well, it's not really new. It's –how shall we say it– previously owned? For 20 years? Yes. It's a 1980 Mercedes station wagon, a diesel. I just happened to run across it in the used car section of the paper. I was looking for another Mercury when MERCEDES caught my eye in the M's.

It was one of those "must see to believe" and "mint condition" things. The minute I sat behind the wheel and heard the engine purr, I knew I had to have it.

When I'm driving in my Mercedes wagon, I can't believe my good fortune. I have a car that runs. The windows go up and down. The radio works. When I park in someone's driveway, I don't have to put cardboard under the motor to keep oil from leaking onto their nice clean concrete. I can stop at red lights or eek along in bumper-to-bumper traffic, and I don't see smoke billowing out from under my hood. Plus, the interior doesn't smell like dirty socks.

I like to think people believe I bought this car new and have just taken good care of it. They might just think that too because when I'm driving it, I assume a certain posture. My chin is up just a bit.

I've begun to see myself in a different light. In fact, I've begun to think I'm just like other people. No, I'm serious, really, no kidding.

I can walk into a bank and borrow money, eek past a credit check at Macy's, access my email and drive a car that doesn't leak oil, I must be almost normal.

I'm changing my ways. I'm changing my oil. I have my very own used car that suits me to a tee and I'm hittin' the roads. Remember, it's a yellow Mercedes station wagon. Honk if you see me. You'll recognize me. I'm the little blonde driving with my nose just a bit in the air. I'm the one who's smiling and, for a change, not blowin' smoke.