How to Love Your Luxury Beater

Ok, so, I've got this love/hate relationship with my car. It doesn't like to start; it makes funny smells (kind of like burning wood? It's probably wood-burning stoves. In several neighborhoods. And only when we take MY car. And only in the summer. Right.); it screams (bye-bye, rear axel. It was nice having you); and recently the panel that houses the switch for the moon roof fell off (it's tucked up above the passenger visor); and the AC seems to work only occasionally. But the leather seats are still smooth and comfy; the leather steering wheel makes my fingers sing; the heating in my seats still (mostly) works; the moon roof still responds to the switch; and I can still red-line the engine when I want to (though I've been trying not to lately).

So, since the interior of the car is black, and the AC is (to steal my SIL's line) a Unionized French beast (it works every other Tuesday and Thursday, except when those days are preceded or followed by a holiday, for approximately 15 minutes at a time, unless conditions are unhealthily warm), I've been loving the moon roof.

Since I haven't blown these speakers (yet), I get off work in the evening, hop in my car (just like Don Johnson, only, I open the door first), roll down the windows, open the roof and blast Georgia Public Radio (ok, or the local pop station). I arrive home sweaty, sticky, slightly more tan in all the wrong places, tired, wind-blown, and oddly refreshed. The loose ceiling covering even ripples and reminds me of seeing the ocean in my rear-view mirror. Does it get any better than this?