One Last Drive Around the Block

When we bought this car my kids were six and eight.   One of them was still in a car seat, well, a booster seat.   I distinctly remember on one of our first car rides when my then eight year old proclaimed to her friend that someday this would be her car and she would drive it.   I laughed thinking what a far fetched idea that was, it was hard for me to imagine my little eight year old driving.   The last laugh was on me though, because for the last six months this car has belonged to the kids.   Even the the six year old booster seat kid has been driving it!   And, we hoped and prayed she would drive it right through her senior year of high school but the car couldn't make it across the finish line.  The car started giving us signs about a month ago, and hobbled along for a while until it sputtered and coughed her way to a place where we could trade it in for something a little less clunky for the kids to drive.  Finally, it gave up the ghost right before our eyes.  It was tired.  It was done.

It was the first car that I was really excited to buy.   Before this car, we either inherited cars (ask my husband about my Grandmother's Caprice Classic) or we went with the absolute most affordable option (read:  boring).   This car was something I wanted and even though it didn't have a lot of bells and whistles, it fit our little family of four perfectly.  This car never had the pleasure of driving a new baby home from the hospital but it did bring our puppy home from the "farm".    In fact, since the kids were already potty trained when we purchased it, he was the first one to baptize it with urine, a scent that is impossible to ever totally get rid of, and on a hot, muggy, summer day the memory lingers heavily in the air.

The car had reclining seats which the kids LOVED.   Many naps were taken in the back seat of the car, and not just by small children.   Exhausted teenagers frequently crashed back there, sometimes falling asleep in the ten minute ride home from the high school!

Speaking of the high school, that car drove to and from the high school so often, she could do the route on her own.  If fact, as the kids will tell you, there were times when I would set out to do errands on a Saturday and I would find myself in the high school parking lot.  The car just kind of drove me there.
And, no that is definitely NOT a sign of a menopausal brain.

That car has many secrets too.   I'm guessing some will never be shared.    Well, I suppose it's safe to share one of those secrets now.   When the car was just about a month old, it was parked just below our front steps.   One day I decided to move an old couch out of the house by myself, even though it would have been smarter to wait for my husband to get home from work.   I was turning the couch head over heels through the front doorway when it started to slip from my grasp.   Did I mention I was the only one home?   I did manage to briefly catch it but realized that there was no way to keep it from falling down the front steps and right into our brand new car.   I stood in an awkward position for what seemed like an eternity before my strength gave out and I had to let go and watch the couch tumble into the car.   It did this:

My husband is just learning this story as he is reading this blog, but I'm pretty sure he noticed the dent.  It was never discussed.  Maybe he assumed it wasn't my fault and that someone hit my car in the parking lot.   Sometimes in a marriage, you just have to let things be.    The car is gone now, so what's he gonna do about it? :)   Love you honey!

There was also that year, when my youngest was in 8th grade and was involved in the middle school musical.    The middle school my kids attended did not have a stage, but the other middle school in town did, so the kids had to rehearse at the other school.   It was just a couple blocks away but a bit of a dangerous walk so the kids needed to be driven.  There weren't a lot of Moms around to drive the kids, but I was available.    My car could fit four kids legally, other than the driver.   At the time there were about eight 8th graders that were absolutely inseparable.  Now, I would never admit to this in writing but it turns out it is quite possible to fit four 8th grades into the "way back" of my car.   In fact, it is quite possible to fit eight 8th graders in the "way back" of my car, because actual seats become completely boring when the "way back" is an option.  Not that I would do that.   I would absolutely not drive two blocks with eight unbuckled kids belting out show tunes in my car, that would be completely illegal and it would be wayyyyy too fun for this generation and it wouldn't make me laugh or smile at all to see the kids roll and bump around in the "way back" like pool balls, the way I did for much of my childhood.   I would NEVER have done that.  Ever.

The car has other secrets too.   As any parent will tell you, kids talk to you more in the car than anywhere else on earth.   This car has heard all about all-consuming crushes, heartaches, bullies, bad grades and friendships gone sour, and not just from my kids, but from any kid who happened to be riding in my car.  The cloth seats have absorbed many a tear, and have bounced the sound of laughter throughout the interior of the car.   The car has been driven exclusively by the kids for the last six months, so I'm sure it knows things that not even I know, and that I REALLY don't want to know.  In any case, I locked all the secrets in the glove compartment before we gave the car away so they will go to the grave with the car.

The car has seen many adventures.   It has taken us as far north as Prince Edward Island in Canada with it's red-sanded beaches (aka the island that smells like bread and jam) and as far south the majestic Smoky Mountains in North Carolina and Tennessee.   It has found it's way over the Tri-borough bridge into Manhattan many a time and heard many an argument about Yankees vs. Red Sox (Red Sox win btw).   And, it always had a pencil in the glove compartment, just waiting for that draw bridge sign.   It's gone over the river and through the woods to Grandmother's ( and Grandfather's) house many a time.    It's gone on numerous ferry rides, over some impressive bridges, and through some long tunnels.   It's safely delivered us to weddings and funerals.    It's waited patiently for us as we've climbed mountains or played at the beach.   It's sat in a tightly packed parking lot while we played at an amusement park or watched Taylor Swift.   It's plowed through swiftly falling snow and kept steady in wind and rain storms.    It got us home safely every single time.  Without fail.

In the end, it was a family car.    Most of it's time was spent going to dance, gymnastics, voice, and even martial art classes (surprised you with that one, didn't I).   It went to the grocery store thousands of times and picked up and dropped off kids at the elementary, middle and finally the high school.   In its final days, it waited in the high school parking lot all day like an old faithful dog waiting for the youngest member of the family to finish her day at school and drive home.  I shouldn't wax too poetic about it, since at the end of the day it is just a thing, but it is a thing that kept us safe and moving for 11 years.

I know many people associated me with my car and sometimes now I drive by friends and neighbors in my new-ish, unfamiliar car and they don't even know it's me, there is not a single flash of recognition as I drive by.   A car kind of becomes an extension of ourselves, like a favorite sweater or coat.   Except you wear it every day.  It throws people off when you change your look, or go for a complete makeover.

Will I miss it?  Hard to say.  Probably not.  It was making a lot of weird noises in the end (just like that old faithful dog)

However,  it does add to the "end of era" pile that is quickly accumulating in my heart and reminds me a bit of the eggshell that falls out of the nest once the chicks have flown, cracked and and utterly useless to anyone else.   But, like the egg she kept us safe, when safety was all that mattered.   For that we are forever grateful.

One last note and then we say goodbye: