When I first said “my car” in English, it felt like unlocking a new door to the world. It wasn’t just about a noun—it was a bridge between me and the stories, people, and moments that make driving more than just getting from A to B.
My car is a 2018 blue Honda Civic, a compact sedan with a slightly worn steering wheel and a trunk always half-full of books and reusable bags. In English, I call it “my blue Civic,” or simply “she”—a habit I picked up from my uncle, who always refers to his old Ford as “the girl.” Naming a car makes it feel like a companion, not just a machine.
Learning to talk about my car in English started with the basics: parts, features, feelings. I’d point to the “windshield” and “headlights,” adjust the “air conditioning,” and grip the “gearshift.” But it went beyond mechanics. When I drove to the coast last summer, I texted a friend, “The sunroof was open, and the wind felt like a hug—my car even hummed along to the radio.” That’s when I realized English let me paint pictures with words, not just list facts.
I’ve also had small, funny moments thanks to my car and English. Once, a rental agent asked, “Is this your first time driving a manual?” I fumbled, “Yes, but my Civic’s automatic—she’s easy to handle.” He laughed and said, “Sounds like you two are good friends.” In that moment, “my car” in English wasn’t just a phrase—it was a story of connection.
Now, when I say “my car” in English, I don’t just mean a vehicle. I mean the freedom to explore, the comfort of a familiar space, and the way words turn a simple drive into something meaningful. My car isn’t just blue—it’s full of stories, and in English, those stories finally have a voice.