The Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name

I got it. I'm in it.

She's so hot.

I have decided to call her Dixie, for two reasons:

1) One of my all-time fave songs growing up was "Baby Blue" by Badfinger. That's the term I'm using to describe the color (officially Windveil Blue) to friends and co-workers. For anybody familiar with the song...it's about a guy having to leave a girl that he's all ate up with, and the girl's name, mentioned twice in the song, is Dixie.

2) I got my girl down in Richmond, at Bill Talley Ford. It's a long story and I'm not presently in the mood to dish a whole bunch of dirt -- people who are in love are like that -- but suffice it to say that the folks at Sheehy Ford did not display the kind of serve-at-any-cost gumption I was expecting. Think Richmond, think Civil War, think capital of the C.S.A...thus Dixie.

Who has such a great ass. Such a sweet sweet ass. Have guys gotten actual woodies in their new cars, when they're the only person in the car, I mean? I would have thought the question ridiculous before last Saturday. And it's not just the sweet perfume of the new car smell either. No, my girl is so good in so many ways. Like...

-- Getting to 90-plus mph on I-95 coming back to G-Burg. Fifth gear, at about 3700 rpms. Dixie's face gets red at 5700. Meaning, the way I figured it, she had at least 40 more mph to give before she was gonna say it was hurting too much. Some boys at AllFordMustangs (hereafter referred to as AFM) are reporting their V6's have gotten to 140 -- after the restrictor plate is removed. (Hmm, must ponder.) Dixie is just a flat-out athletic girl.

-- Taking the right turn onto Longdraft coming off Clopper at a speed that would've put the XTerra on two wheels, Dixie just put her fine little fanny down and I swear I did not move an inch in the seat. You know the old adage about the really good-looking girls being no good in bed? Dixie blows that all to heck.

-- Letting one of the guys on my staff (a definite car enthusiast) drive her Monday, she squealed her wheels not once but twice...as if to say, "Yeah, I'm the real deal, sugar." Dixie can be bad that way sometimes.

-- Hitting a bad flat-edged bump on a road under construction down in Old Town G-Burg last night, Dixie's CD player momentarily stopped. It was like she was having a conversation with me and then took an unexpected blow so painful that she stopped talking. I was sick to my stomach with regretful sorrow and spent the next fifteen minutes cursing the f---ing idiots who left the road in such a sorry state. Dixie's pain is my pain.

-- She gets looks. BOY does she get looks. From overweight truckers and skinny Type A lawyers in Volvos. From pretty twenty-somethings and teenaged boys, who can't resist sneaking a peek while affecting the too-cool-to-care head tilt. Dixie is just a Babe. I may never be famous, but I'm going out with a girl who definitely is.

So I'm In Too Deep right now, figuring out daily what new things I can buy for her. Customized floor mats? Yeah. A chrome exhaust tip? Will scour the ends of the earth to find one. I've even started contemplating some gadgets seen at AFM that are WAY beyond the realm of the practical. Special cold air intakes for increased horsepower. Upgraded mufflers for a throatier, Kathleen Turnerish sound. Bigger, fatter tires. Nothing's too good for my Baby Blue.

This too will pass, says the cynical part of the Otto Brain. I'll stop obsessing about bird poop on the hood and blades of grass on the carpeting someday. The excitement will wear off -- it always does. I haven't yet smoked in her, making good on a pre-purchase vow, and it will be a Telling Moment if one day I succumb and break that rule. It's just a freakin' car, after all...

But the heart beats loudly and drowns out that bad noise. "NO," it shouts, "this is a pure and sweet and profound thing you're feeling right now. It shall not be spoiled!"

Somebody posted a thread on AFM that said:

If I could take my Mustang to bed with me, I would.

Yeah, that's exactly it.

Aw, Dixie. You fine sweet thang you. What an ass you have, Dixie. Is it time for our next date yet?