Picked up the R/T from the mechanic right at the end of the day. The receptionist had taken it for a test drive just before I walked in the door. "I drove it when you first brought it in," she said with a smile. "It's like a whole different animal--it's a new car."

I didn't think much of it at the time. I'd been made overzealous promises by mechanics before. Then the mechanic brought me the keys and with a smile said "go ahead and take her around the block while I cash out the guy ahead of you in line." So I did. What a rush. 0-30 was nothing as I flew into second, the engine's RPMs never scratching above the 3,000 mark. That's a whole different experience than having to over rev the poor motor just to keep pace with traffic.

It *IS* like a new car. It leapt to life like it had just rolled off the factory floor. It also didn't hurt that I had hand detailed the car before I brought it into the shop--it looked new, it sounded new. I felt like it was christmas. I felt alive.

I wisely took it easy as I rounded the block, cautiously revving the engine with the windows down and listening for the knocks and rattles that had made me neurotic. Nothing. Just the smooth tick of the lifters on the cam, the quiet whistle of the breather, the muffled growl of the intake, and the, low, mournful whine of the transmission as my foot laid on the clutch.

Money comes and money goes. That it will be spent is certain, but when, where, and how makes all the difference. A choice between knowing what I was involved with or opening Pandora's box seemed so dangerous, but now feels so right. Despite rolled eyes and clucking tongues my Neon is back in action, ready to grant me the freedom of the road one can only find on the solitary byways of the western US.

A long road lays before her...