"I'll drive," is a sentence that came out of my mouth this past week more than usual. Much more than usual.

Last Monday I bought a new car. It's red, cute and is what my dad termed a "gas sipper." That's probably one of the most important parts, considering how often I use my car for work and how often I travel out of town on the weekends.

But I feel somewhat guilty for spending all that money. Could I have just bought a used car? Could I have gotten by with that?

Then I remember that my car had almost stranded me for the second time in a year last month. I don't need another used car with baggage.

I need to start fresh with something of my own.

Last week, it didn't quite feel like my own. It's impeccably clean. It has all sorts of bells and whistles I haven't figured out yet. I didn't even have a license plate number yet.

I kept repeating, "This is so weird!" the evening I got it.

It's weird that it doesn't announce each bump and crack in the road with an annoying "thump-thump." It's weird that the check engine light isn't on. Weird that the driver's side window goes up and down in a timely manner.

At the same time, it didn't feel like I was driving someone else's car. When you borrow a friend's car, the seat and steering wheel aren't in the right spots. The radio stations aren't programmed on the right stations. The accelerator and brakes work differently than in your car.

So I was shocked how comfortable I felt in the driver's seat of this new one. It didn't feel like I was borrowing someone's car or even test-driving it. It felt like I owned it.

On Saturday, I stocked the CD storer my boyfriend got me for my driver's side visor. On Monday, I filled up the gas tank for the first time since I bought it. I picked up my license plates (which is what I'm most happy about. My car no longer screams, "NEW CAR! NEW CAR!" as a drive down the road).

And when Sunday's showers left, brown, muddy spots all over my car, I cringed. I could go weeks without feeling the need to wash my old car.

When this one got dirty, however, I couldn't wait to wash it. So I bought a car wash with gas Monday, figuring the basic model was all it needed.

I pulled in to the car wash and waited for it to make may car sparkly clean. Then I inched slowly forward, anticipating the dryer. But the lights on the dryer sign never lit up.

How can I pay $5.49 for a car wash that doesn't dry my car??!!

So I went in and asked and got the whole "it's not up to me" line. Instead, it was whoever put in the car wash's doing.

I pointed out that I could have gone across the street, paid 51 cents more and gotten a better car wash, complete with drying.

"I know," she said.

And a customer at the counter quipped, "You'll have to drive fast!"

Not funny.

So I went back out to my dripping wet car. Water spots began to form on it and I swear the workers at the car wash across the street were laughing at me.

My boyfriend always said my old car always acted up on me because I didn't love it. Whatever I do, I need to be nice to this new car.

Which is why I think the shoddy car wash got under my skin. I love my new car (as much as you could actually love an inanimate object) and don't want anything to happen to it.

Part of it is because I have so much hard-earned cash invested in it. But part if it is because this is something that I have made my own and I want to take care of it.

Cari Quam can be reached at 434-2235 or by e-mail at :mailto:cari.quam@austindailyherald.com