Moving to New York means I won't be driving my car for a while. And by "a while" I mean probably ever again. So, I made the rational, adult decision to give my car to my dad for safe-keeping for who-knows-how-long. It had been sitting in my mom's garage for the past year (moving from the suburbs into the city meant it no longer made sense for me to keep it with me in DC) and was a bit under the weather. And by "under the weather" I mean it had a dead battery and two flat tires. Nothing a little battery charger and a couple of cans of fix-a-flats can't fix. Oh fix-a-flat, I could tell stories about you... but we'll save it for another day...
I'm pretty notorious in my family and among my friends for being not-so-great at letting go of things (and people...) and for being pretty liberal with my tears. Staying true to my reputation, I cried twice as I turned over the car to my Dad. "It's just going down the road. You can drive it anytime you want." His rational, adult logic did little to console me. What can I say? At least I haven't changed much over the years.
It's just that... It's my car. It's not my first car, not even my second car, but it's the first car I could ever rely on. It's the first car I haven't had to wait seven minutes for the headlights to come on, or worry that it wouldn't start when it rained, or have three (three!) used transmissions put in. (All totally true stories. Also, the combined purchase price of both of those cars was $150. I spent most Saturday mornings with my Dad with my head under the hood of both those cars. But I digress...) It's the car that has been there for me through the craziness that ensued my first year out of college, through law school, and my move down to DC. It was reliable and dependable and steady. It took care of me and allowed me to be independent. Without it, I was nothing (if not a bit dramatic, haha).
Anyway, I took my things out of the car and had a bit of a walk down memory lane. A lot of my stuff was from college, which I think is funny, because I didn't actually have this car in college. When I looked at the items I had been carrying around with me everywhere I went, I realized that it's a pretty accurate glimpse of who I am...
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| My co-pilot since 2004 & a gift from Brooke.
His name is Wilbur, after the pig in Charlotte's Web. Of course.
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| A promise and reminder to myself since 2005. Hung out around my stick shift. |
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| Old CD collection I still play. (Some more than others...) Dispatch ejected earlier this weekend. (Played a lot. A lot a lot.) |
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| School Pride (Never made onto my windshield, though...) |
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| Directions to my 2010 temp job. Well-wishes to myself were necessary. |
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| Oh hey! Look what I found in the drawer under the passenger's seat! Circa 2008? |
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| Meetings, meetings, meetings. So many meetings in 2009-2010. |
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| Holding it together. Barely. |
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| Not holding it together. At all. |
So that is my photo-essay of my dissent into tears over my car this weekend. Stay tuned for more craziness, because as you know, my love for my car always gets a bit awkward.
[Yes, this post's title... I know.]
