For most students in high school, a car is the first taste of freedom, the first, real item you have to truly call your own and be responsible for. For me, a car meant all of these things and more. It meant not having to rely on my parents for rides any longer, being able to drive my friends' places, and most importantly, it meant being able to drive wherever, whenever. Within reason. As I prepare to say goodbye to the four wheels I rely on now and hello to the two wheels I will rely heavily on this upcoming school year, I ought to give a proper goodbye.
Dear 2012 Chevy Malibu,
It was chance that the keys that start your ignition landed in my hands, a few days
after I turned 16. My previous car, whose engine had taken its last breaths and
wheels had spun for the last time, was no longer going to do. My first few drives
of freedom had been checked off my bucket list, with me sitting in the drivers
seat, back pressed against the cloth seats. Drives within the state I call home
had been completed, to destinations that had deemed themselves "silly", or
a "total and complete waste of gas" in my parents eyes. But in mine, they
screamed "adulthood", and "freedom". I will miss the way your headlights
shine on our blank, white garage after a night out on the town, home just in
time for curfew. Malibu, I will always be forever grateful for the long nights where
your capacity was filled, with five people sharing, laughing, and making
memories that will last forever within a drive. After I had sophomore and my first
year of driving under my belt, you were introduced to a new world. A world
that included my first boyfriend, first kiss, and the first male who had been in my car
that I didn't call "dad". A whole new sense of freedom was to be explored, both
in and outside of your rose gold doors. Deep conversations, both songs and ice cream pints shared,
and things learned about another person are all things that ocurred
within your rose gold doors, however. With a jam-packed schedule senior year,
you became my second home. Clothes, cheer shoes, bows, golf clubs, a mini-
emergency kit, work uniforms, firewood (bonfire,anyone?) and books cluttered
both the backseat and trunk. (empty coffee cups with leftover caramel sauce had
also been scattered around, earning me a lecture about keeping my space clean).
I will also always be forever grateful for the way your wheels never managed to get stuck in the snow, as we bared through three rough Iowa winters. I do have to
apologize for the time your backend gained some scratches however, as I do not
drive well after long cheer practices late at night. Those three scratches taught me
another lesson about responsibility, and the costs that come with freedom. The
summer before college was interesting, to say the least. Unlike any summer before,
this one was filled with heartbreak, more tears to count (although one should never
drive upset), and more hugs had been given across the cupholders than ever
before. Songs with angry, uplifting, and get-over-him lyrics were blared through the
speakers, while together, we got over my first boyfriend. Finding myself for myself
is another freedom I am working to find. As I reluctantly hand the keys that start
your ignition over to someone who, while we share the same household, hair
color, and last name, couldn't be more different. Be prepared for more trips to
the gas station, and the school track. Be prepared for less country music and tears,
but more R&B and sports talk to fill the void. Instead of the cupholders being home
for coffee cups, be prepared for Gatorade bottles. More importantly, be prepared for more long nights, coming home to your headlights shining against the blank, white garage, as you introduce another 16-year-old to a world full of first freedoms.
Sincerely,
Sierra
