So Long Old Friend

It's just a car, an inanimate object, a chunk of metal. That's what I keep telling myself. Good grief, this is just pathetic. It wasn't as if I just put my dog down, right? Right? She's gone on to a new owner, the one I sold her to cheap, because she promised to get her running again and understood what a car can actually mean. Maybe some day, I'll see her out on the road again.

Those of you the know me personally are well aware that I rarely hold on to something for long periods of time and I'm all too willing to move on. That's what makes what I just did all that more difficult. The only possession that I still had from my youth is now gone, my first car. No matter where I've been, or what I was doing I always had my Z and almost all of you have stories about it. It was more than transportation, it was my freedom, the connection to my past, and my planned future. Thirteen years I've owned that car. She's outlasted many newer, flashier and less abused vehicles in my parents stable. Though flawed and sometimes unpredictable, it was these characteristics that most gave her personality and she rarely let me down even with the odometer reading 325,000 miles.

It was with her that I learned how to enjoy driving. To just be in the moment with no regard to problems and plans and that the trip by itself could very well be more important than the destination. It was my freedom, my relaxation and enjoyment, and the embodiment of my frivolity. It just was and always will be remembered as the temporary escape that I sought from responsibility. It was a royal pain in the ass sometimes, always hot with no AC and she leaked like a sieve when it rained. But even still, those memories bring a grin to my face. Because it was flawed and not perfect, it had a human like personality all it's own.

Thanks for the memories