By Ken Rickard
Advertiser Columnist

It was the longest drive I ever took. All along the way, the conversation played over and over in my head. I had to believe what I was about to say was true, even if I had my doubts.

"It's not you, it's me."

It was such a cruel cliché, but this time it was true. It was me.

I've changed.

We'd been together for four years, which is one of the longest commitments I've ever made.

I thought we could make it, but we were both too young when we got together.

What it came down to was that Lily gave all that she could, but I still needed more space.

After all, she was just a regular-cab pickup truck, and I needed room for more people in my car.

I've heard people say that you can tell a lot about a man by the way he treats his ride.

If they are anything like me, it's pretty much the only partnership that we've got going on.

I don't try to hide the fact that I name my vehicles. Most guys do (along with various other objects).

It all started back in high school when I would cheer on my Isuzu Impulse, which I dubbed Marla, going up the hill to Kalama Valley. "Come on Marla, baby, you can do it," or "Please Marla, don't do this to me now," were common things to hear in the Kaiser High School parking lot.

A man's relationship with his car is an important one. But please, don't read too much into this.

Lily, a Chevy S-10, was my first new car. She only had 12 miles on the odometer when I drove her off the lot. She was shiny and sexy.

And rapidly depreciating in value.

I appreciated her hauling capacity and would lavish her with washings and buffings on the weekends. That was our honeymoon stage.

As time went by, we began to get comfortable with each other. I bought her things like seat covers and a dashboard rug to keep her content. In return, she would run like a champ.

But then she got a ding in the rear fender and everything started to change. It's not that she wasn't attractive anymore, its just that a ding here and a ding there adds up.

It had to happen one day.

Honeymoon over.

The washings became few and far between. I could tell she knew something was going on, especially when I took her to a (gasp!) Jiffy Lube instead of changing her oil myself.

I guess what really happened is that we grew apart. She wanted to stay in that carefree world where it was just the two of us driving to and from work.

I wanted to be able to pick up my brother and sister from school without being crowded in the cab. That plus power windows.

Now I'm with a new SUV that I've named Natalie. And I truly believe that she is the right one for me.

I think I'm mature enough to make a long-term commitment. We're gonna be together for a long time.

Or at least until her six-year, bumper-to-bumper warranty runs out.

Reach Ken Rickard at krickard@honoluluadvertiser.com.