Old Flames
The object of my former affections.

Today I passed you on the street
And my heart was at your feet
I can't help it if I'm still in love with you

Somebody else stood by your side
And he looked so satisfied
I can't help it if I'm still in love with you

A memory from the past came slowly stealing
As I braced your arm and walked so close to you
Oh heaven only knows how much I miss you
I can't help it if I'm still in love with you
                                                   - Hank Williams

Strapping into the 635’s cockpit, I had just delivered a few dozen issues of the new Sonnenflecke to my local BMW dealer. Nice folks. They display the club’s newsletter in their showroom and service lounge. As I drove away, the Sixer meandered over to the dealer’s line of used cars, where my eyes quickly settled on the Object of My Former Affections.

An old flame.

I stopped in front of her and allowed myself a good long look. She still had it, the ability to draw the eye over her body, which in days past I had lovingly caressed with the finest of emollients. Always protected, always presentable, she wore the years well. For a few moments I recalled the countless hours we had spent together, sharing the cool of the garage and the sound of AM oldies. I remembered her on the road, topless, headed for adventure and whatever came our way.

Now, here she was. Out of my life. Waiting for someone new.

But it was okay.

I hoped whoever took her home would be good to her. Appreciate her strengths, indulge her weaknesses. Treat her with respect. Because, truth be told, I knew that if you took care of her, she would take care of you.

In all our hearts there is a compartment dedicated to the lingering residue of old flames. Traces of love, as it were, that didn’t turn out right. The times that hurt the most are when I look at the pictures. Faded photographs, covered now with lines and creases...

Okay, enough. You get the idea. The good times I had with my ‘87 325i cabrio were wonderful, just like the good times I had with my two 633CSi’s, and before that my ‘81 528i, and before that a long parade of interesting cars, mostly foreign (they are, after all, the most exotic) and all lovely in their own way. For those of us afflicted with “the disease,” as my brother’s wife calls it, we know it is only a matter of time before the symptoms manifest themselves. Sooner or later, we’re hot on the trail again, hopeless romantics leaving in our wake the dying embers of yet another old flame.

As I put the coupe’s transmission into gear, I left the cabrio with a silent wish for the best. I absolutely knew what I have known with each of my automotive affaires de coeur: my current one is the best. And so the Sixer and I drove on, together.

Still, every once in a while, the old flames fan themselves out of the subconscious for a few fleeting moments. I think the greatest thing about memory is its selective nature. Invariably, as in my brief encounter with my old 325i, I remember the good parts.

Isn’t that the way love is?  -Rick Sparks

Well hello there,
My it's been a long long time
How am I doin'?,
Oh well I guess I’m doin' fine
It's been so long now and it seems that
It was only yesterday
Mmm, ain't it funny how time slips away
                                         - Willie Nelson
 

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