The Land of No

Monday or Tuesday, I was driving past a car lot in town when I saw a really, really gorgeous thing.  It was an old royal blue Dodge Charger ragtop convertible.  I almost pulled in right then, but it had been a long day, and I contented myself with watching it in the rearview mirror.  It started me thinking, though, about what I'd like to replace my own car with when that day finally comes.

I have always liked old things better than new, and the same ethos applies to cars.  I love an old muscle car (all of them except Corvettes and Mustangs, that is).  Cars from the 40s and 50s charm me with their graceful flow.  That love of vintage is why I have the car I have now, a throwback design to those other days.

I started talking with my Dad about that car and about another one I'd seen driving past a place on the other side of town on a regular basis.  He knows a lot about cars, having rebuilt and/or raced a lot of them in his youth.  I am just learning basic things; I still don't know as much as I'd like to on the technical end.  After talking to him, I decided I would go back and see the cars and just see what the sticker prices were like.

The blue one was gone.  Who knows if it sold just that fast or if it was only ever there to pull people in, the private property of someone on the lot.  Across town, though, I found the reddish orange one sitting as though it were waiting on me.

It's a 1969 or 1970 Plymouth RoadRunner with a 440 V8 in it.  Basically, it's the Plymouth version of the Super Bee.  It looked like, given the slightest provocation, it would kick your ass and then take off into flight.  I found it quite lovely.

There was no sticker in the window, so I still don't know if it's for sale, but getting that close to it made me want it.  Lots.  I came home and talked to my Dad some more about it, and that's when the "Noes" started.

No.  You don't need a car that fast with that much horsepower under the hood.  No.  You don't want a car with that age on it.  No.  You would be unhappy with the gas mileage.  No.  You don't want it because it needs constant tinkering which you can't afford.  No.  No.  No.

It was kindly said, and I'm not saying it's all wrong.  I fall in love with things and talk myself out of them all the time because they're not wise or not right for me right now.  So I'm not saying that the car is the issue.  It's just another symptom of a bigger thing.  What I am saying is that I am getting powerfully tired of No.

No.  You shouldn't want to go anywhere else even if this place is eating your soul.

No.  You shouldn't even talk about changing jobs because this one, although it is not paying you enough to pay all your bills, is at least a safe option.

No.  You shouldn't want to go out of the country on any kind of exchange because who will take care of your house while you're gone?

No.  Even if you applied for it and they told you you're going, isn't it somehow going to fall through and be bad?

No.  No.  No.

My life feels like an auxillary portion instead of its own legitimate entity.  I am so powerfully tired of  it always being no or you can't or their close and evil cousin, have you thought about...should you really.  It makes me feel like a fool or an infant.   I wasn't aware that I'm either.  It makes me unbearably weary and sad.

No.
No.
No.

This Land of No is killing me.