I was in my 2001 green CR-V, driving on the highway. Though it’s a small engine with four cylinders, it could sustain speed surprisingly well, and cruising at 80 mph was plenty fast. It handled pretty well, basically a bigger version of the Civic, for which both cars were based on the same chassis frame. I had planned on trading the car away when my mom gave me this her “old” car. She got the newer CR-V. But I ended up keeping it, since it’s serving its purpose well—driving all over the Bay Area, enduring harsh bumps and puffing up hills in San Francisco, and to date, it’s never left me stranded alone on the highway.
Yuka, my wife, was sitting in the passenger seat. Outside the car was one of these classic days with a clear blue sky, temperature was literally perfect, at 68 f and felt warmer if you’re inside the car, with sunshine rays hitting against the glass. Few luxury cars passed us, then couple American muscle cars like a Corvette or Charger with Hemi V-8 engine would sneak out of nowhere and speed past them and us, as to say look who’s the boss here. Out on the road, I’d play a little mind game and try to identify which models they were, the years they were, and sometimes, I’d try to see who was behind the wheel, whether if it’s male or female, and made a bad stereo-typing. I turned my head around, only to find that my wife wasn’t doing any of what I was doing—cars spotting, stereo-typing, or enjoying scenery out front. She was just looking at me like I was doing some kind of a commercial or in a movie. Yes, looking at me, nothing else.
Realizing this, I made a little facial expression as to say “Yes? were you gonna say something?” She shook her head and said “I was just looking at you. That’s all.” This made me a bit self-conscious like was there something on my face or under my nose. I quickly checked myself in the front view mirror; nothing going on my face. Then, I said “So, you were just looking at me. Not interested in these cars much fancier than this green CR-V or the nice weather outside?” She responded “No, just you.” and she smiled at me. I made a small grin, turned my head back and to the road ahead. I could feel she was still looking at me. It’s hard to imagine I’d make a more interesting subject than these cars like Tesla Model S, GTR, Porsche 911s (my future dream car), or the likes. Then I felt her hand coming over and hold my hand. The CR-V kept up at 80 mph yet still few luxury cars passed us, then a Corvette or Charger roared past all of us. But I know she wasn’t paying attention to any of them and I dream of us in a Porsche someday.