I parked my car a block away as I made my way to the residence where a funeral wake was in session. The streets around this neighborhood were fairly busy with vehicles either parked or on their way carrying passengers to the wake. It was a muggy evening, and I quickly wanted to get in and pay my respects to a friend who had lost his mother to a prolonged illness.

Just as I made up my steps toward the entrance, I bumped into Ali, an acquaintance I had not seen in recent years. After the customary greetings and the obligatory exchange of kisses on the cheeks, he looked me straight in the eye and with an alarming look blurted out “Tariq! You came in THAT?”

For those few moments when the mind is totally lost and does not fully comprehend the question, I stared at him blankly. And when it started to filter in, I looked back with dread. For I was fearing the worst. A tree may have fallen on my car. It may have been sideswiped on my blind side. Or else, some miscreant had smashed away at my windows or stolen my tires. But there it was. Parked lawfully and peacefully by the sidewalk on the corner of the block. There was no obvious damage or radical aberrations. Just a few scratches here and there.

“In WHAT?” I replied with concern while we were still standing at the entrance. “MY Mazda?”

“Yes, Tariq” said Ali. “A Mazda. You of all people. You should be driving something more elegant, more in keeping with your status, what with a man like you and all. A Lexus perhaps, but not THAT!”

Now that got my blood pressure racing. “Just a minute, Ali! If I drove a Lexus or a BMW or a Mercedes, would it make me a better person? A more learned person? A wiser person? Or perhaps increase my testosterone levels? Isn’t that a bit like judging a book by its cover? And anyway Ali, enough of this chit chat. I have to go in now and pay respects. We’ll talk another time.”

I abruptly left him standing by the entrance as I made my way in and sat quietly on one of the seats designated for those who came to pay respect. And as I sat there, I mulled over my just concluded altercation with Ali. Here was an educated man who was just about befuddled by my choice of transportation. And what exactly was wrong with my Mazda?

Sure there were a few scratches, a couple of minor dings. But in looking at myself, with the passage of time I have had a couple of those on my body as well. Maybe the bumpers and fenders on my Mazda don’t glean or shine as they once did. But neither do I. And maybe the springs aren’t as supple on potholes as they once were, but then again, I am not either. It creaks now and then. But so do my joints. Should I replace me?

No, my Mazda is me! It had never failed me once during the wet and rainy months, when roads were overflowing with stranded cars of all other makes and models. It is stubborn, just as I am. It starts just about every time, not unlike me or so I would like to think. It zips about cheerfully on our roads without intimidation, a character not unlike my own. And on the trek to Taif, on that steep and treacherous road, it took care of me and didn’t let me down, a character I would like to think of as my own.

And as I continued to sit there lost in my thoughts, I realized that there are people in this world who do get emotionally affected by their material status. Which is OK, if it makes them happy and secure or adds to their lives. For who am I to judge? But please don’t step on my toes about my Mazda.

I like driving it, and for the record, there’s a new one out that goes zoom, zoom, zooming about town from what I’ve heard. When and if I decide to replace my trusted companion, I will know exactly where to go.

— Tariq A. Al-Maeena, [email protected]

9 November 2002