One More Climb On The Old Car

It’s been a fairly quiet time in Fayette County lately.  A hot summer has lead into a nice, cool fall and now the leaves up in the mountains are just starting to turn all of their colors. The plants around the house are starting to slow down their growth, and maybe, just maybe, I’ve mowed the lawn for the last time this season.

And, in that season of change that fall is, I’ve made a big change myself, trading in my 13-year-old vehicle for something new. Okay, so maybe it was a bit less of a choice than necessity since it was technically illegal to be driving it over the past year or so (silly state inspection laws). But it was just time. And, because I have a major tendency to anthropomorphize things, it was way harder than I expected it to be.

The vehicle that I traded in was a great vehicle, a small SUV that had taken care of me for years and racked up plenty of miles without incident. And, as I took the last few items out of the dash, patted it on the hood and said thank you (don’t judge me) I couldn’t help but think through all of those moments in life that it took me through…

There was the first long trip we took together when it was a brand new car, less than a week old, driving up to MN, moving there for a job I wasn’t sure about, wondering if I was making a huge mistake.

There was the time I drove back home to MN from KY after seeing my grandmother for the last time before she died. 13 hours of driving, through the night and into the morning, fighting to stay awake with the memory of my grandmother wanting to kick me out of the house, not recognizing me and believing that I was her physical therapist that hadn’t visited for over two years.

There was the time I drove Graham home after meeting him for the first time at a St. Paul area PetSmart. Him howling almost constantly for the entire 20 miles from the inside of a cardboard box, the only time I’ve ever seen him scared in over ten years of life. And all through the drive, he never knew that I was more scared than him. Heck, I’d never been able to keep a houseplant alive. How was I going to take care of this little 6 ounce life that now relied on me for everything?

The times I drove through blizzards in the attempt to get safely home, the times I traveled for work, parking it in a hotel parking lot for weeks, or leaving it at the airport, inches of snow accumulating over it by the time I returned.

The people it carried in the passenger seat to restaurants, the theatre, sporting events, bars, festivals, mountains, beaches, and everyplace in between. The notes that were left under the windshield when conversations were too hard to have in person. The fender bender caused by a night without sleep. The license plates from three different states. The time I slept through the night in the passenger seat.

The luggage it carried in the back for trips to see family, romantic weekends, weddings, funerals. The drives to and from hospitals. The time I actually got away from the police in Illinois (completely by accident) by driving down a strange alley after going the wrong way on a one way street looking for a restaurant.

Trips to vets, trips to hardware stores, bags of mulch, bags of goodwill clothes. Slow, relaxing trips, and events of road rage (mostly mine). The week I worked as a rural postal carrier but quit because I couldn’t bring myself to put that car through the abuse.

Driving dates, driving family, driving coworkers, driving friends. Seeing all kinds of state limit signs through that windshield. The windshield now chipped from a couple of rocks kicked up from the road and now facing the wall of a dealership.

So yeah, I felt a little misty eyed as I walked away. My writers mind holds on to every memory. So those are all still with me, and always will be.  But fall is a time of change.

And, as I drove away, I wondered what name my new car would earn, what the years would hold with this one, and just what roads we will go down together…


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