Lately, my husband’s and my car has been spending more time alone, what with pandemic impact, more work-at-home, high cost of petrol.

Lonesome status also was true of our family car in the 1960s, what with Dad’s belief a car ride was an occasion. This mandated a purpose and a plan, neither of which my two brothers and I were adept at providing.

Dad made it clear the Pontiac grand prix did not gad about to relieve boredom, thrill us with speed, impress friends, or traverse terrain our feet could navigate.

We became reasonably content just to HAVE a car, should the need for a ride manifest itself.

Lately, I often feel likewise.