To my favorite piece of machinery, largest source of anxiety, and dear old friend,
It has been a total and utter privilege to drive you these past three years. I still remember the day I handed my parents the first $200 installment on what would become a beloved story of the trial, tears, and triumph like it was yesterday. My first car-- what a day it was to be 16 and pull out of my driveway alone, foot shaking on the brake. We took that first lurch together down Greenleaf Boulevard and I knew, I knew that the day I had to say goodbye would be harder than I could ever imagine.
Do you recall our first road trip together? Mom and dad were on vacation and it was just you and me. Three hours together on the way to Indianapolis, just two weeks after they printed your picture on an 8 by 11 sheet and called it your license. The trip was going smooth, you were navigating the road so well. An hour and a half in, the rain came in sheets. The highest windshield wiper setting was merely creating space for more rain to cover while we slowed to 30mph on the highway, white knuckles for miles. But we made it, didn't we? Safe and sound.
Did you ever get tired of Aubrey and my rapping? It happened in phases. We'd start with some Kid Cudi and end in Flatbush Zombies. There was plenty in between. If I'm honest with myself, I know it had to be hilarious but we were so bad. Two very white, teenage girls rapping to underground artists, comical at the least. But I thank you for your sub-par speaker system and semi-functioning CD player-- without them, our rapping would have been far more audible and that would have helped no one.
Oy, 80,000 miles in just 3 years. You deserve credit for being the true athlete you are. From 5am swim practices to dinner dates all over the state and weekly drives to Trine until I finally moved there, you were a trooper.
Did you notice me when I cried to you late at night? From 16 to 19, I like to call them the "years of tears" and, Escape, you did well. The emotions of a teenage girl are not easy to handle, but the tear stains on my seats show your compassion and tenderness. I can't imagine what life would have been like without a friend like you to take me away in troubled times.
You have been good to me. You have served me well. My friends like to joke because you had so many problems, so many issues. But what's a brake line here and an alternator there in the grand scheme of life? They caught the broken ball joint right before it snapped and the battery only died twice. I can't blame you, you're only a machine.
So, my friend, it's almost time to say goodbye. I'm sorry for the times I've cursed you under my breath when you wouldn't accelerate. I'm sorry for the times I've hit your steering wheel in frustration. I'm sorry that I sing too loud and cry too much. I'm sorry that I ALWAYS spilled my hot coffee on you. I'm sorry that they're going to take you away from me and I'm sorry that I've replaced you. I'm so sorry, pal, but it's time to let you go.
Thank you for filling my young heart with excitement and joy. Thank you for hauling my ridiculous amount of things to two different colleges. Thank you for teaching me the beauty of mixed CDs. Thank you for being my ride instead of my die. Thank you for keeping me safe and for letting me love you for three good years. Thank you for being my first car.
Goodbye, my dear friend. There are nothing but good times ahead.
All of my love forever,
Your favorite driver
