Feeding the Material Girl

So I had to take a trip which required the new policy of using a company car to be carried out.
I 'work' (volunteer) for the Children's Aid Society as a foster parent.
Previously, we used our own car and logged in our mileage for reimbursement per km.
Now, for trips over a certain distance, we are required to use the C.A.S. car.

I was happy to oblige; especially when I saw the sweet little number I was going to drive! A NEW smokey-blue Toyota Yaris.
Oohhhh baby!

But, I confess, my road trip in this flashy bit of metal did something to me.
I became worldly. My brain went into a different realm.
I got a taste of the "thou shalt not covet thy neighbours oxen" commandment.

Honestly; even ask my husband; if my vehicle gets me from point 'A' to point 'B', I've really never cared an iota of what year it was, what style or what it looked like.
Just as long as I can listen to music, can trust it's gas-gauge and can reach the pedals. (we had this old jeep once, see, that I had to sit on the EDGE of the seat to reach the pedals... loved it, though!)

But, I had never really had the opportunity to fake that I was the owner of a new car.
So; there I was. Caught. Tilting off-balance!

It started with the smell of 'clean car'. And the look of 'intact' car.
No ratty seat-covers, or duct-tape holding the side-view mirror on.
No dirty floor mats or broken cup-holders.
Then the realization that this vehicle had a CD player.
Speakers that worked without sounding like someone was stuffing a wad of tinfoil in my ear.
AND cup-holders that were not only conveniently located but were the right size for my favourite travel-mug.

But, it was when I started down the road and heard nothing rattling with it's incredible smooth drive that I believe my personality changed.
I was hooked.

I began to imagine that everyone was looking at me differently.
They must think I am rich! I've arrived.
One of the elite. Status quo poster-girl.

They must assume I am a successful business woman or the owner of a prestigious country club... or a millionaires wife!
[Keep in mind that I am driving a Toyota...however nice it was; it was no Jaguar...]
...but my imagination had gotten a head start and there was no stopping it now.

I tried to act slick and chic when I stopped for a coffee at Tim Hortons.
Never mind the fact it should have been a Star-bucks. Remember I am still in Bruce County at this point, and can lower myself momentarily to partake of the coffee of the plebes.

Wait! Maybe the CEO's wife wouldn't just have a coffee... maybe she would have a large cafe-mocha!
AND a chocolate pecan triple chunk cookie.
Maybe TWO!
She could afford it! Her personal trainer would help her work off those extra calories.
Ahh.... the excess was going to my senses.

I faked a British accent as I received my change and took my cafe-mocha with 2 chocolate-chunky-pecan-caramel-something-or-other cookies.
It sounded fake but I pretended, of course, that it wasn't.
Everyone knows that British accents sound posh and sophisticated.
Like my car. Like me, now!

I think I even fooled the girl at the window.
Made me feel even more superior. Even half-closed my eyes like they do in the old movies when they're being snooty.
Imagining I had long eyelashes and flawless skin.
But, I dropped my change and laughing out loud, winked at the clerk and became human again before regaining my dramatic composure.
But only for the moment... had to retrieve the coins (I wasn't THAT far gone!) and couldn't risk a chipped nail. (pretending again, of course.. as my nails ain't got nothin' to chip).

Unfortunately, this car had no cruise-control.
My right foot had to be reminded constantly that the speed of the sound coming from the (loud) CD player was not meant to be matched in km-per-hour.

But, I was sure if I were to be stopped by the police, I could fake money and with a graceful wave of my manicured hand, talk them out of a ticket with a bribe; free golf-season tickets or spa-membership for their wives.
And they would surely believe me.
Except, what if they looked at the ownership? They would remark that it was a company car I was driving.
It was a Toyota. And I really should be more considerate of the Law.
And the Children's Aid Society.
And I would be given a ticket. Regardless of flawless skin and unchipped nails.

Slowly, I came back to planet-Reality.

I tried more carefully to drive closer to the speed limit.
And then I realized no one was giving a rat's tail what I was driving.
No one was looking at me.
They were all driving their own cars hoping to get from point "A" to point "B".
Coffee was coffee regardless of cup-holders.
Mud and dust doesn't prefer one vehicle over another.
The sun shines on flashy foreign cars and 10 year old chevy's with the same warmth.
God looks at the heart; not the mode of transportation.

And it's okay to like something even if you can't have it. :)
Like British accents.