Sssshhh! Don’t tell my 1996 Grand Marquis, but I almost took the money.

President Obama's offer this summer to give me up to $4,500 toward the purchase of a new vehicle was almost more than I could withstand.

Who isn’t tempted by thoughts of that new-car smell? The sleekness of new upholstery and new paint, unadulterated by dents, scratches and bird poop? Who doesn’t dream of cruising down the highway driving a clean, new car that’s the envy of the road, not to mention your family and friends?

What brought me to my senses was the thought of those new-car payments and the new-car insurance that was sure to go through the roof.

Having said that, the fact is that I have a relationship with my Marquis. I call her Nellie. We go back a lot of years. We've been through a lot.

Nellie was used when I bought her. She had about 15,000 miles on her. Red! When I drove her off the lot, I knew that Pavlov’s car-loving dog was salivating. She was so smooth.

Nellie took me the 50-mile roundtrip route to my job for over ten years, and though she has sometimes put me down, never beside the road. She has needed new thermostats and water pumps and belts. The air compressor went out and, in Florida's heat, was quickly replaced.

Her back windows won’t roll down, yet they’ll often slip down a fraction of an inch and my husband has to force then back up by hand so the rain can’t come in. We fixed the two in the front.

She hydroplaned one rainy evening. Hit three cars! Had to get a new door and a bumper. She was easy on the other cars, too.

Nellie’s interior holds the record of my children upbringing – toy cars under the seats, melted ice cream and candy stains. Black spots where chewing gum once lay. Orange stains left from crayon melted in the sun. Petrified French fries and years-old M&M’s that look like you can still eat them hide in corners.

Nellie holds my record of marital bliss. Heated arguments and stoic silences. Conversations about children, in-laws and preachers. Nasty things married folks try to do coming home from parties. Umph!

She has hauled home rummage sale finds. She has a small crack in the front window from when a truck threw a rock. She was with me when I hit a police car on the Buckman Bridge (but that’s another blog for another place).

I'd like to think that Nellie has feelings. She knows that she is loved. That’s why she has been so good to me. She now has over 220,000 miles and, like the famed battery bunny, is "still goin’.”

I remember witnessing a disagreement my parents had when I was young. The heated argument had given way to a cold silence that had dragged on too long. I was there with my mother and several siblings when my father, searching for a way to give in without apologizing, cleared his throat and said to me, “Barbara, I tell ya; I've decided to keep my bad woman."

You could have heard a pin drop.

Then he said it again. "Yeah, I believe I will keep my bad woman, ‘cause if I get rid of her I'll just have to get another bad woman. At least I know the bad woman I've already got."

We children fully expected our mother to explode with anger and the fight would be on again, but she didn’t. Her equally sarcastic reply was: "And I'm gonna keep my bad man, too."

The room erupted with laughter and the fight was over.

And so they did. For 51 years, for better or worse, they kept each other.

The song of my parent’s day, “Its Cheaper To Keep Her," has given way to the song of our times, "I Can Have Another You In A Minute," and we have all paid a price. We throw away cars, appliances, clothes and relationships with a certain ease. When was the last time you sewed a button or a rip? Have you patched anything lately? Have you replaced any parts? Have you decided to keep and fix something you already have?

Maybe the question of the hour should be, "Can we fix this and keep it?"

I hear you saying "But, there’s always something!"

Isn’t that life? Isn't it still cheaper to keep her? Our parents knew something that we’ve lost sight of -- that it’s often best to keep the clunker you have. It’s not perfect, but it’s yours.

So Nellie ain’t goin’ nowhere soon. Ya hear that, Nellie?! I'm keeping my bad clunker. And maybe to that Nellie will yell back, "And I'm keeping you, too."

D. Barbara McWhite grew up in York County and now lives in Orange Park, Fla.

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