They’re coming to get her this morning – our 1997 Sable. We drove that car for 17 years and loved every minute of it. We were huge Salt Lake Jazz basketball fans and it was just the right color for us – Jazz purple. The inside is gray leather and in pristine shape. But three years ago the transmission went out on it for the second time and we couldn’t justify putting another one in given its age. Still it’s set out here in the side yard with us being unwilling to part with it. Ok… With me, mostly, being unwilling to part with it.
I went out and checked her over one last time this morning. I was afraid to get in as there were hornet nests all around her. But I also noticed there was white battery acid leaking inside by the steering wheel. It was obviously time to put her out to pasture. She’d served us well and deserved some peace.
What was particularly hard for me was that this was the car we raised our kids in. We went from one end of this country to the other and to Canada in her. There are just so many memories stuffed inside. And I seem to be one of those people who need something material to help hold onto those sacred moments in my life. I keep telling myself it’s the memories that are important, not the car, but my mind builds cairns out of those keepsakes, and I’m loathed to see them torn down. I’m just quirky that way.
She’s gone now. They just left. I’m a little teary as I watch them drive away. I was glad to see they picked her up on a flatbed instead of with a tow truck. This way she will have a nice, comfy ride to her final destination, wherever that is. And me? I kept her second key as a reminder of all those wonderful memories. It will go in my keepsake box, hoarded like a child hoards jacks and pennies, marbles and pictures of baseball heroes. And this weekend I will go find just the perfect Jazz-colored ribbon to tie to the key to remind me of all the great adventures we had – like the one where the US Border Guard didn’t want to let Stef back in the states because we’d forgotten her Green Card and Naturalization papers! That’s one memory I’ll never forget!
Is it just me, or do any of you get attached to old cars like that for sentimental reasons? Or old anything for that matter?