I own a 2002 Saturn. It is maroon. It is also a sad car. Los Angeles is full of nice, happy cars. Mine is not nice, and it's not happy. I own a sad car.

It is maroon, which is a color most other automakers deliberately forgot about.

It has no Bluetooth mechanism. So, to speak on my phone while driving, I must turn on the speakerphone and hope for the best.

It smells musty, too.

I ask myself: does owning and driving a sad car make me sad? The answer is: yes. It does make me a sad person. Does it make me less worthwhile as a person? That is up for debate.

Sometimes to make myself happy, I drive my Saturn to the gas station and I hop out in front of the pump, and I go into the little hut to pay for a snack. When I come back outside, I say to the Lexus or BMW driver nearby, 'Wow, see that Saturn abandoned in front of pump #7? Which sad little idiot owns that car?' More often than not she or he does not answer. Maybe laughs or gives me an alarmed face. Then I say, 'Well, it's not me!'

Then I walk off, raising my snack, to explain why I'm at the gas station, and I go hide behind a bush. When the Lexus or BMW driver is done gassing up, and has left the gas station, I come back to my sad sad car. I go up to it and take in its ultimate sadness. It knows it's been shamed. I feel bad. But I also feel sad. So, to recap: bad and sad.

Today I got some happy news about a project I was waiting to hear about. Then I got in my car, and being in my car dampened all the happiness I felt, and soon I got very sad. My Saturn read my mind. It sputtered and coughed, and we both felt like we wept on the street in front of my apartment.

Get yourself a happy car.