The day we sold Seth's Bronco, was one of the saddest days of our marriage.
I have often joked that it's the only time I've seen Seth cry (true story).
I should not have teased Seth, this week it was my turn. We lost a dear, dear friend.
Dear Sweet Corolla,
After your birth in 1990, and a short-stint with an elderly lady, your sweet, silver spirit came to live with my family. You spent a year or two "living on the edge" with my wild sister, before coming to live with me on my 16th birthday. I am glad you forgave me for burning up your clutch, you sure seemed mad, in fact, I can safely say you were smoking mad. (Yes, I did notice the smoke billowing from under the hood, even if you tried to hide it from me).
I hope you know how much I cared for you, I tried to show you, remember how I upgraded your old tape deck for a fancy CD player (fancy = removable faceplate, wouldn't want anyone stealing your new toy). I was just as upset as you when that truck-driving-football-player distractedly rear ended you, giving you your first little blemish.
You were a tricky one, with a "difficult" clutch and seatbelts that confused everyone. It was as though no one had ever experienced seatbelts that attached to the door. But I caught on, I understood you.
We had some good times in high school, you were a big fan of the Bare Naked Ladies, Dixie Chicks and Everclear, and you were always up for a "drive-by". I felt awful the night the basketball standard fell over and hit you on the hood. Weren't we grateful it somehow missed your windshield?
Not one to be left behind, you were right there with me when we made the big move to college. I am sorry I got so wrapped up in "studying" at times, that I may have forgotten to change your oil, check tire pressure, or register you on time. (It's not my fault, I didn't know Dad was done taking care of that). At times a week or two would pass without us going out for a spin, but we made up for it with our adventurous roadtrips. Remember Jackson Hole? Mt. Rushmore? Ha, those were good times.
I should probably apologize to you for the less-than-quality passengers you had to transport from time to time. I appreciate your non-judging nature, but let's be honest...you really should have kicked some of those boys to the curb. You did get a sweet baseball stick-shift knob from one of them, so don't hate me too much! I am truly sorry about the countless times you were so snowed in that I had to leave you until the snow melted down, and while I'm apologizing, I am sorry about the 90-year old that decided to back into you and dented your door. I always felt bad about that. As crazy as college was, I knew I could always count on you. Always.
You knew I had found a winner when I met Seth, you were always on your best behavior around him. Except for the time you played an April Fools' joke on him. Remember? You told him you were totaled (just months before our wedding), I agree, I thought it was hilarious, until you found out that his roommates were trying to figure out ways to pool their money and help us buy a new car. No more April Fools' Jokes for you (or me, for that matter).
Thanks for being there through college, graduation and then on to marriage. You stood by my side when I had an early-mid-life-crisis and decided to leave my job and go to hair school, again you didn't judge, you just got me where I needed to go. I have a sneaking suspicion you were always a little jealous of the Bronco and all the other trucks that hung out at our house. Remember, I liked you, for you. I did think it was funny the time you tried to park under the Bronco (on purpose) - you really would have made it all the way to his rear tires, had the trailer hitch not been in the way. And Seth and I did talk about switching your tires with the Bronco, thus creating the Broncolla and the Coronco. However, when it came down to it 35s just wouldn't fit on your petite frame.
I know you were nervous when we started selling off our "fleet" of cars, in preparation for our big move to Maryland. But not to worry, you were by far the most reliable and economical car we had and we knew we couldn't make a cross-country move without you.
You hit a big mile stone in Maryland, passing the 200,000 mile mark. You became Seth's baby and his commuter car. And I know, I know it was not your fault that the deer ran into you, he was on a suicide mission. I'm just glad you weren't hurt and that Seth was able to salvage your mirror.
I know the last few years have been a little rough on you, you were getting on in the miles (240,000+) and I understand things just ddidn't work the way they used to. Your paint was a little sunburned or flaky, the rust was getting to you, practically eating at you. And oh, that darn driver window - it just really acted up in the cold, didn't it? And by "act up" I am probably referring to the fact that it refused to roll down 9 months out of the year. (Not normally a problem, except Seth needs to roll the window down everyday to get on base).
So, Corolla, my sweet friend, it is with great happiness our family is growing, but with deep, deep sadness that I know our time has come to an end. You will always hold a very special place in my heart.
Love,
geri
** We looked into passing on the Corolla legacy to someone else, but when it came down to it, Seth worried that a "free" car to someone in need, might turn into a few/several hundred dollars in fix-its for them, not to mention a few "safety" concerns he had. So, sadly, the Corolla's final resting place became a cash-for-your-car junk yard. Sniff, sniff.
For the record, she was fully capable of driving herself off to the land of cars, but this guy wanted to play with his tractor-toy. I feel it was not the most dignified exit.
