Queen Esther, the escort.

This is my car, Queen Esther.

I'm ashamed of her.
She’s a 1997 Ford Escort. Roll up windows, manual locks, two doors… & a tape deck! She seems to be simple and smart, no frills. Truth be told, she is a regal and unassuming beauty.

Best of all she has a story. I inherited Esther from my Great Aunt Kay the summer before I went away to college. My track record with cars before Esther is shaky, with Esther it’s really a wonder they still let me drive at all. 

I inherited a plethora of treasures with her. She came with a stale cigarette smell from Aunt Kay’s USAA Golds, some crusty leaves from autumn 1999, a mini flash light, stylish cigarette burn holes in all of the seats and some rusty jumper cables that will for sure give me tetnus if I even look at them for too long.  I’d be remiss not to mention the non-working horn [safety first!], weird shaking thing that I’ve gotten completely used to, a missing right fog light and  the hood that never really closes [pretty sure that one keeps my mom up and night.]

It’s great that she was free and all, but she embarrasses the hell out of me. That bit about my poor track record with cars? Just this summer her wipers stopped working on the way home from a friends wedding in Rockford [my passengers were great, I just yelled the f word and called my dad.]

Yeah, white girl problems. I’m ashamed of my car... & I’m ashamed that I’m ashamed [does that even make sense?]

I’m ashamed that she constantly smells like a hot cigarette

I’m ashamed that the carpet looks polka dotted with coffee stains

I’m ashamed that she’s only got two doors and it’s like a throw back to discovery zone birthday parties when people have to climb in the back.

But I’m really ashamed that I live in a culture that makes me ashamed of my car. It’s responsible, it gets great gas mileage, it came at no cost to me or my parents and it enables me to work off campus and make the big bucks [that’s a blatant lie.] Granted it’s ugly and nasty- but why do I have to have the biggest, best and newest of everything?  I don’t, car included. I shouldn't have to carry shame about my car- I should hold my head high and see this jankity-jank automobile for the blessing it is, right?

For what it’s worth, Esther has served me well. She’s traversed the Midwest [shout out to Iowa City, Milwalkee and Grand Rapids] and she’s even made it into the south [Oklahoma City],  I’m planning on making a foray into internataional travel by taking her to Toronto [I’m nuts?!]  This car has been around. She’s taken me everywhere. She has moved me in and out of dorms and apartments for the last four years. She has provided the venue for more than a few late night talks and some pretty big decisions. She drove me out of my parents drive way the first time the word divorce crept into our lives. She took me to the hospital every day my dad was sick the following year, and I realized what being his daughter means now. She drove me to and from my first two-part, divorced Christmas dinner. She doesn’t talk back when I yell or when I cry. She’s pretty reliable. I kind of like her.

That's me & Esther.

No Shame November is the brainchild of the fabulous Kathleen Leahy [find her here].