Prior to today, I was the proud owner of a shiny red Volvo. Vera was my very first car. I got her from my uncle a little while after receiving my license in high school. She was a REAL Volvo. A ’92 Volvo. A Tank. And she was my baby. Everyone who has known me since I got that car has known that I love that car. Everyone who knew me in high school has been able to enjoy the cool, black leather seats and open sunroof; windows down as we blasted the best music in the world while traveling down the I-35 corridor in Austin’s rush hour traffic.
Sure, she didn’t have Air conditioning in the Texas summers.
Sure, the sunroof stuck on occasion and wouldn’t always close properly.
And sure, the speakers crackled whenever we went under power lines.
But the bumper stickers made up for it.
Today is a solemn day. I sold my baby today. I didn’t think it would affect me this much, but being that I haven’t been able to drive her for about 6 months, it was time for her to move onto a person who would be ABLE to take care of a car with high mileage. With the economy is such a downswing the repair bills were just something I couldn’t keep up with. So she sat in the parking lot of my apartment complex for six months, until I finally got up enough courage (and into enough of an economic hole) that I looked out at her one Monday morning and resolved myself to finally let go.
She deserved more than just a parking spot next to the highway. She deserves the highway itself. Full tires, full seats and a full trunk on the way to . . . wherever. That car gave me a great gift. Vera brought me closer to friends, gave me freedom to go where I wanted to. She was my companion when I needed a place to curl up and cry and she was my assistant when I needed someone to store my things. And spoke loads about my personality with five little bumper stickers.
My Karma ran over your Dogma
When Religion Ruled the world they called it the Dark Ages
Doing my part to piss off the religious right
Some mornings I just don’t feel like slaying Dragons
Why Be Normal?
I love you, Vera . . . and I will never forget you.