Scaredy Car

I think it's pretty common for people to attribute human characteristics to non-human things.  I believe the term is anthropomorphism.  I also think that the more you use or spend time with a non-human object, the more likely you are to start regarding it as human-ish.  I sometimes do this with our computer - mostly when it is misbehaving.  I consider the coffee maker a friend, but I regard the toaster with suspicion.  I own a small screwdriver which I swear hides when I need it most.  My world is filled with objects that think and feel.

By far, the object which seems most alive to me is my car.  This is probably because we share so much.  On cold winter mornings my family is still snuggled in their warm beds as my car and I struggle to stay warm.  I rely on this beast to get me where I need to go and usually it doesn't let me down.

I think as cars have gotten more complex and automated it's only enhanced their "aliveness".  My car is a few years old now, and age has introduced a level of randomness which at times mimics free will.  For instance, I used to think my car was a snob and held too high an opinion of itself because it was constantly locking its doors - as if everyone was going to be tempted to steal it.  This was particularly annoying on cold winter mornings when the engine was warming up and I was outside the car, scraping the windows.  After finding myself locked out of car and home one morning, I began the practice of always leaving the driver's door slightly ajar when scraping windows.  Yes, I used to think my car was a snob but I don't any more.  I think even it can see that the miles have taken their toll.  Now I think it's more likely that my car is just a coward.  It feels most secure when everything is locked up tight.  The slightest sound or movement can make it nervous.  A squirrel rustling in the grass? LOCK! The wind blowing through the leaves? LOCK! I consider it my car's fetal position and it curls up at the drop of a hat.

I must admit that my attitude toward my car has changed.  Whereas I used to get annoyed, now I feel pity.  Where I used to berate, now I console.  It troubles me somewhat that my behavior and feelings could be influenced so strongly by my assumptions of the car's motivation.  Obviously, the car is neither a snob nor a coward.  It is just a car with a quirk or two.  Still, it makes me wonder.  If I can do this with my car, how often do I misread the real humans in my life?