One of my favorite movies is, The Sound of Music. I love this movie. I love that the networks play it on Easter every year. I love Maria's non-nonsense short hairstyle. I love watching the moment Maria and the Captain realize they're in love. And I love the endless goodbye the children give to their father's guests as they reluctantly make their way up the steps of the Von Trapp mansion.The past few weeks have felt like the endless goodbye, but not between people, but rather between a person (me) and her car.
Back up: Joseph K. and I recently purchased new cars. He, out of necessity, me out of not wanting him to have a new car and not me. In my defense, my car was 11 years old. It ran well, but after tooling around in Mr. K's new ride for an afternoon, I started seeing my Red Devil as a lover whose flaws had been startlingly revealed. Fast forward: I have a new car.
Since we are a twosome, with no need for three cars, we decided to donate the Red Devil to charity. The minute I made the call to have my car picked up, I started getting nostalgic: Remember the times she drove me across the country? What about all the times she was enlisted by my auto-deprived friends for trips to IKEA or the grocery store? I remember the first moment I saw her. I had wanted her for so long, looking lustily every time I saw her pass me by, driven by someone else. Finally, she was mine. And now, 11 years later, she is not.
The actual process of letting her go was excrutiating. I called the charity. They told me they needed her title. Of course, I didn't have it, so another week went by -- the RD left undriven as I flaunted my new wheels in front of her. Title arrived. Re-scheduled the pick-up a week later. Took RD's plates 0ff (SOB!) in preparation for her tow. Towing company didn't come. Said they would come the following day. RD sitting there. Looking at me. Don't you love me anymore?
Oh RD! How much do I love you? I've always been able to rely on you. You've never given me any trouble. I've known you longer than I've known some of my best friends. You've seen me cry, watched me dine, heard my deepest secrets. You're going to make someone really happy.
This morning, I left for work in the new car. I got halfway down my street and looked back one last time. I saw my youth and all my memories. I turned the car around, walked back into my house, found my camera, and took the picture you see above. It's been an amazing ride. Auf wiedersehen, goodbye.
2 comments:
Wet blanket time: You ran up thousand(s) of costs the last half year on this car (remember Glenco?). More importantly, the car lives on, helping some indigent person get from point A to point B. From poverty to hope. From nothing to a job. To future. I am not dismissing RD's meaning to you, but RD will live on, meaningfully.
Feh. You have no appreciation for sentimentality. Except when it comes to your 8th grade English paper. THEN, it needs to be preserved in a paper bag in the garage.
Post a Comment