Of course, like any self-respecting person who's suffered a loss against his own will, I have tried so many things to move on. Move on. It sounds so simple. But it isn't, is it?
Just yesterday I thought not only am I head over heels for the new precious one, I thought I was a changed person: all the habits and taking for granted of yesteryear was now put to bed with the emergence of newer ones.
But suddenly, just as we're beginning to enjoy that lovely dream, we wake up to the realization that we are no better or worse off than when we went to sleep last night. Back to step one, some might say. Case in point being you do or say something that is wildly reminiscent of those habits you thought were long gone. Like the shocking reappearance of the coelacanth after 65 million years, you suddenly mouth an immensely personal and intimate inside joke from the past with the new loved one. You then think 'shit, here I am and she's no lesser than the previous one yet...'.
...yet?
...yet?
...yet?
Memories. Ahh, such lovely things they are: the passion and soul of life. Nothing's perfect. If you have a lovely vase with hairline fractures here and there, but you love it, you'd think it's the perfectest thing on the face of this Earth.....until it breaks and you get yourself another one (similar, due to your taste) and begin to think the broken one was indeed a little 'leaky', just so you could convince yourself that this new, perfecter one deserves your utmost love and care and concern and not the memory--however sweet--of the broken one. Whether you're good at convincing yourself or not is irrelevant.
My point here is that when you reminisce and compare two (or more) things of equal value to you, the one with more sentimental value would always win. It's the gone-but-not-forgottenness about it that would make it hard for a newer one to win you over.
Which is why this summer, although iffy about it at first, I came to enjoy the larger, wider, longer, heavier, thirstier, tinted MPV with huge-ass low profile tyres which made the ride a pain in the ass (literally and figuratively). I had to adapt to the gear stick being on the center console like in most cars. I had to get used to its more sluggish acceleration. I had to be more careful when steering as it was front wheel drive.
Just yesterday I realized that every time I park the mammoth Toyota Alphard in my one-car porch, it's always--and I mean always--perfectly straight. The wheels are parallel with the tiles on the floor. I do it without trying. It just happens. I can confidently make U-turns without slowing down and inching forward, scared I might hit a kerb or something. It's like the Alphard and I are one. Symbiosis or something like that. Also, I've hit a kerb with those precious 19-inch rims. And I have reversed into a broken divider that I wasn't able to see. Nice enough, I've left my mark on the MPV.
Just this evening, I discovered a 'coelacanth'. I hopped inside the Alphard and fired up the engine. Perfectly normal. Seatbelt, iPod plugged in, gate opened. Then I pulled at the wiper lever downwards. I would have done that a year ago on the old Mitsubishi Delica Space Gear as its gear lever is there on the steering column. No biggie. Re-place the wiper lever and just pull the gear stick into R as I do on almost every other day and get on with it. But as I ease away I realize how much I miss that irritating afterthought reverse sensor beep of yours. With that the flood gates open and those past memories all come back to me involuntarily, and suddenly my left thumb is twitching as if pressing the faulty 'Over Drive' switch on the edge of the Space Gear's gear lever, and I turn the wheel a little to the left to counter the misalignment, just like I did back then. *sebak* That's how much I miss you.
On paper, the Alphard would have the Space Gear for dinner. Maybe. But the Mitsubishi has the advantage of 12 years' worth of memories, of momentuous growing-up milestones, of carpooling commutes from school to home to tuition classes. I went camping and fishing in it. And to a lake-isle in Perak and as far south as Singapore and as far north as the Kelantan-Thailand border. I've been scolded till I cried in there. I've drank a bottle of Coke (500ml) in one gulp in there. My first accident. Even the first kiss was in there. As of right now, I'd go for the Space Gear without a shadow of a doubt. Am I still not over you? *shrugs* Maybe, maybe not.
Given time, more things will happen with the Alphard and the bond between man and machine would be much stronger. They won't be equal in any way, though. The Space Gear years were those I spent growing up, learning things and enjoying being a child. No way in hell would those years be repeated for anyone, ever. For different eras, tastes and preferences would change, and the Space Gear was spot on for that period.
For now I'll just have to repress those dastardly 'coelacanths' and stop comparing and simply enjoy the Alphard for the brilliant people carrier that it is.
Just yesterday I thought not only am I head over heels for the new precious one, I thought I was a changed person: all the habits and taking for granted of yesteryear was now put to bed with the emergence of newer ones.
But suddenly, just as we're beginning to enjoy that lovely dream, we wake up to the realization that we are no better or worse off than when we went to sleep last night. Back to step one, some might say. Case in point being you do or say something that is wildly reminiscent of those habits you thought were long gone. Like the shocking reappearance of the coelacanth after 65 million years, you suddenly mouth an immensely personal and intimate inside joke from the past with the new loved one. You then think 'shit, here I am and she's no lesser than the previous one yet...'.
...yet?
...yet?
...yet?
Memories. Ahh, such lovely things they are: the passion and soul of life. Nothing's perfect. If you have a lovely vase with hairline fractures here and there, but you love it, you'd think it's the perfectest thing on the face of this Earth.....until it breaks and you get yourself another one (similar, due to your taste) and begin to think the broken one was indeed a little 'leaky', just so you could convince yourself that this new, perfecter one deserves your utmost love and care and concern and not the memory--however sweet--of the broken one. Whether you're good at convincing yourself or not is irrelevant.
My point here is that when you reminisce and compare two (or more) things of equal value to you, the one with more sentimental value would always win. It's the gone-but-not-forgottenness about it that would make it hard for a newer one to win you over.
Which is why this summer, although iffy about it at first, I came to enjoy the larger, wider, longer, heavier, thirstier, tinted MPV with huge-ass low profile tyres which made the ride a pain in the ass (literally and figuratively). I had to adapt to the gear stick being on the center console like in most cars. I had to get used to its more sluggish acceleration. I had to be more careful when steering as it was front wheel drive.
Just yesterday I realized that every time I park the mammoth Toyota Alphard in my one-car porch, it's always--and I mean always--perfectly straight. The wheels are parallel with the tiles on the floor. I do it without trying. It just happens. I can confidently make U-turns without slowing down and inching forward, scared I might hit a kerb or something. It's like the Alphard and I are one. Symbiosis or something like that. Also, I've hit a kerb with those precious 19-inch rims. And I have reversed into a broken divider that I wasn't able to see. Nice enough, I've left my mark on the MPV.
Just this evening, I discovered a 'coelacanth'. I hopped inside the Alphard and fired up the engine. Perfectly normal. Seatbelt, iPod plugged in, gate opened. Then I pulled at the wiper lever downwards. I would have done that a year ago on the old Mitsubishi Delica Space Gear as its gear lever is there on the steering column. No biggie. Re-place the wiper lever and just pull the gear stick into R as I do on almost every other day and get on with it. But as I ease away I realize how much I miss that irritating afterthought reverse sensor beep of yours. With that the flood gates open and those past memories all come back to me involuntarily, and suddenly my left thumb is twitching as if pressing the faulty 'Over Drive' switch on the edge of the Space Gear's gear lever, and I turn the wheel a little to the left to counter the misalignment, just like I did back then. *sebak* That's how much I miss you.
On paper, the Alphard would have the Space Gear for dinner. Maybe. But the Mitsubishi has the advantage of 12 years' worth of memories, of momentuous growing-up milestones, of carpooling commutes from school to home to tuition classes. I went camping and fishing in it. And to a lake-isle in Perak and as far south as Singapore and as far north as the Kelantan-Thailand border. I've been scolded till I cried in there. I've drank a bottle of Coke (500ml) in one gulp in there. My first accident. Even the first kiss was in there. As of right now, I'd go for the Space Gear without a shadow of a doubt. Am I still not over you? *shrugs* Maybe, maybe not.
Given time, more things will happen with the Alphard and the bond between man and machine would be much stronger. They won't be equal in any way, though. The Space Gear years were those I spent growing up, learning things and enjoying being a child. No way in hell would those years be repeated for anyone, ever. For different eras, tastes and preferences would change, and the Space Gear was spot on for that period.
For now I'll just have to repress those dastardly 'coelacanths' and stop comparing and simply enjoy the Alphard for the brilliant people carrier that it is.
