MY CAR (=

My family is the proud owner of some not-so-special cars. You see, my mom drives a 2005 Lincoln Navigator. Its stocky appearance and infamous rims have earned it the title of “The Diddymobile”. I personally think my mom just calls it this to embarrass me, but she claims she saw P. Diddy driving it in a music video. Whatever the case, it’s a decent car. It provides my family with all the room it needs to run from field hockey to football, without my mom having to give up her pride and to her dismay, drive a minivan. It may seem big from the outside, its shiny black paint job glistening in the sun after a fresh run through the car wash, but once inside, it’s not that grand. The back seats are in tight quarters and you are usually smashed together. The next row up has two seats with a perfect view of the microscopic DVD player. My personal favorite is all the way up in the front. It’s so easy to call “Shotgun!” and hop right in. You are in full control of the car, aside form the driver of course. You can adjust the heat, seat positions, windows, vents, lift gate, and even the radio with just a tap of your finger of the gleaming silver touch screen radio. All of the seats are made a of a light, almost cream colored, leather, worn in and marked from muddy dog paw prints and juice box spills. Its tinted windows help to shield your face as you point and laugh at other drivers on a long road trip. It always has a certain smell to it, the kind you can’t describe, but you just recognize as home. My parents suggest that I inherit it on my sixteenth birthday, but I’m still holding out for a shiny new ride!