Well-timed suicide...

So, we finally got around to buying a new car. We've been threatening to do it for a few years, probably since the minivan turned 8 years old (4 years ago). My husband has been begging me to ditch the space shuttle, but as long as she cranked on everyday, I was willing to live with the embarassment of driving a space-shuttle shaped minivan. Who wants to have a car payment just so that I don't have to drive around in an ugly car? Of course, if you read my previous posts, being ugly was the least of her problems...

All it took was a trip to the dealership to change everything. We meant to buy a minivan, but through a bit of twisting and turning, we ended up buying a SUV, most importantly a vehicle with 140,000 miles less than the minivan...go figure.

As we were leaving the dealership, I swear that the minivan looked sad. She saw me hop into the new car and drive away with a smile on my face...I'm sure that she thought I had forgotten her. Maybe, I did.

For the next three days, I drove the new car. I had to! For the first time in months, I was driving in a car with windshield wipers worked in the rain, not only during dry weather. I had air conditioning...and I still haven't turned it off yet...not to mention, doggone it, the new car was just prettier and I must say...I looked good in it.

Matt gave me until Tuesday to get ride of the minivan. He was going to have it hauled away, but I was convinced I could sell it. So, Tuesday evening, I was talking with a friend, who was looking for a replacement vehicle (a cheap one) and I was extolling the virtues of my minivan...yes, I was honest about her quirks. I gave her a bargain price and she said her husband would come by and look at it the next day.

I arrived home an half-hour later, oblivious to the fact that my minivan wasn't in front of my house. When I announced that the minivan had been sold, Matt shared an even bigger announcement: the minivan was dead.

Gone.

It seems that my minivan dropped her transmission without warning. She had cranked up every day for the eight years we'd owned her. We never had any warning that this was coming (I'm sure there was a warning, but clearly, we didn't see it). No lights were on to indicate something was up, she just died.

I think it was suicide.

Matt said that she had to go on Tuesday and she decided to go out on her own terms. Don't blame her.

So, on Thursday, I sat in a downtown parking lot and waited for the tow company to come and get her. There would be no resurrection this time. It was just time to let her go. Right before they arrived, I took her picture and let one tear fall down my cheek. The tow dude laughed at me for caring so much about a car.

I spent countless solitary hours in that minivan. Most days, only she and God heard my truest feelings. I wiped thousands of tears on her seats. Only she knows how I sound when I sing really loud and she was the last thing I talked to before I got out of the car, arriving at one task or another.

Maybe she was just a car. But, she was also a safe place for me for more than 100,000 miles of life over the last eight years. You can't always find friends like that everyday.

I'll miss her.