Over my last trip home, my beloved first car, Ted the silver 2003 Honda CR-V, was almost laid to rest—he pulled through, thank God—but it got me thinking about how much my first car means to me.

I won’t lie, it caught me off guard how torn apart I was at the thought of losing Ted. I don’t have him with me at college so when I started full on ugly-crying in the maintenance shop parking lot, I was a little startled.

I know this seems melodramatic, and it very well might be, but so many things happened in that car. From the good times to the bad to the downright weird, Ted saw me through it all.

Ted has always been a constant in my life. He is my loyal, oil-leaking, air-conditioning-less companion that has faithfully gotten me to school, work and everywhere in between for four years now. Ted saw some rough times from me.

He saw me cry after I didn’t win an election, he saw me cry over other spoiled friendships, he saw me cry-scream emo songs after a long day. Basically, he just saw me cry a lot. Lots of tears stained his grey fabric seats.

But Ted was also there for every big, happy moment I had during high school. He was there when I drove to school for the first time on my 16^th birthday, blasting music like I was hot sh*t. He was there when I accomplished cool things, when I aced a test, and when I made new friends.

Every single big moment I had, he was there.

When I drove to graduation.

When I got my first big college acceptance letter.

When I decided to cut bangs the day before prom (a BIG moment).

He also witnessed the weird, like the massive cry I had on the way back from the salon when I cut nine inches of my hair off sophomore. Or the massive cry I had the next morning on the way to school to debut my new hair-do that I despised. Or my very drastic style transformation from Vineyard Vines to Urban Outfitters. Or the two-week period sophomore year where I only listened to Kelly Clarkson’s “Since U Been Gone”.

Ted is the place where it all happened. He saw the highest highs and the lowest lows and everything in between. I think the thought of letting go got to me because letting go of Ted is like letting go of all of the memories he holds.

He represents me becoming me, and all the things I went through to get here. I’m glad he’s sticking around for a few more cry sessions, jam sessions, and cry-jam sessions.