Knuckles and Buckles

The names of our cars given by Shijie.

Knuckles for her 2005 Mini, because the curves in the hood slightly resemble the back of a hand, and the fist-clenched way we drive it. Buckles for my 2004 R32, because when you get in you must fasten your seatbelt. As a used car, Knuckles is an incomprehensible adopted child that Shijie feels she must learn to nourish and keep safely protected. The R32 - now Buckles - has been my most trusted companion since late 2004, but it lacked the necessary requirement of automatic shifting for a car to learn to drive with.

I can't tell which is the girl car and which is the guy car, yet Shijie believes both cars are in a lovingly committed relationship. I must remind you that she sees this from Knuckles perspective, and Buckles and I have quite a different take on it. We often find Knuckles parked next to one of the many other minis in the garage. When questioned, Shijie counters that they are "just friends."

I would more accurately describe their relationship as "it's complicated." It seems Knuckles only lets Buckles get close when it desperately needs something - like a jumpstart - after which, Knuckles often finds itself back near a shiny blue mini within a matter of minutes.


After Buckles has been "friend-zoned," there is always an inevitable period of soul-searching accompanied by long drives off into the Arizona desert and lone ski trips to Colorado.

Eventually Buckles will make its way to an abandoned industrial complex, have a moment of spiritual enlightenment, and realize that Knuckles fickleness and lack of commitment is not the worst thing in the world for it.


Both cars have their ups and downs. Buckles has sub-par air conditioning, Knuckles has a clutch that slips occasionally. Perhaps they are more like step-children, and they must both learn to like each other, because Shijie and I will be bringing them to many more family functions for a very long time.