I’m ridiculous and I know it. I’m going to blame it on my astrological chart because, well, why not?  Born as I was on the very cusp of Leo and Virgo, I’ve been cursed with a double helping of loyalty, an admirable trait, but one that often works against me when I take it too far.

I’ve held onto everything from underwear to toaster ovens to relationships long past their expiration date. I’ve routinely shrugged off taunts of “You’re still using that?!” from astonished friends and family. Just last week, my daughter stood agape as she watched me pull a particular eyeliner out of my bag. I quickly pointed out that not only did I still love this product, it was one she had recommended to me. “Yeah, ten years ago, Mom! There’s something called progress. You know, like, electricity.” For the record, I hardly use my kerosene lamp anymore.

From the outside, it can appear that I fear change, am inflexible or even lazy, but it’s really none of that. Okay, maybe a little lazy. At the core, however, it’s because I find it excruciatingly difficult to turn my back on anything or anyone that has been there for me, no matter how long ago, how briefly or how tenuous the connection. True story: I almost wrote a letter of apology to Proctor & Gamble when, after years of faithfulness, I tried a different company’s detergent. (“It’s not you, P&G, it’s me.”)

The absurdity of my exaggerated sense of loyalty was brought into high relief this past Christmas. My husband gave me a surprise right out of a commercial—he bought me a new car. Seriously, a beautiful, brand-spanking new car with all the bells and whistles. And after the shock and excitement subsided, I was overcome with a tremendous sense of sadness for my old car. Emphasis on old. Not Flintstone old, but definitely old by modern consumerist standards.

My husband had been trying to talk me into getting a new car for the past few years, but I would hear none of it. I fell back on my customary reply, “It’s in great shape. Why spend the money?” That seemingly pragmatic response was just an excuse for the crippling guilt I felt over “abandoning” my old car. The one that had seen me through the rough years after my divorce. The one that, ever mindful of my decimated finances then, had never given me an ounce of trouble. The one that had faithfully hauled me from far-flung job to far-flung job as I tried to rebuild my gutted life. I couldn’t put her out to pasture!

Knowing me as he does, my husband took the reins and did what I couldn’t. It took me nearly two weeks to actually drive my new car, so disloyal did I feel. When I finally did, I winced every time I pulled out of the garage and passed my old car, sitting forlornly in the driveway. And then I started thinking maybe my old car was grateful for a well-deserved rest. She’d certainly earned it. She’d still get to feel useful when we took the dog to the park or the vet, and the rest of the time she could relax, pass the torch of everyday driving, with its stress and strain, to the younger generation.  

And so, instead of guilt, I now feel gratitude when I pull out of my garage every morning. I give old faithful a little wave, blow her a kiss and drive off in my fancy new wheels. Yes, I’m wacked, but what can I do? After all, I was born on the cusp. Happy motoring!