I know there aren’t any problems, only challenges. I knew my situation wasn’t sustainable, and I’ve been slowly working on changing it. I guess I didn’t go fast enough, or conserve my resources well enough, because I’ve come to the time of letting go, and I’m not ready at all. It’s not wise to get attached to material things, and I know I’m ridiculously blessed to have had her as long as I have. I just feel the most intense sense of grief. I love my car so much- she’s much more than just a vehicle. She’s my freedom, my safety, and my back up home if my depression derails my life again. I don’t want to let her go.
Since I can’t do anything to change it right now, and even looking at her makes me start crying, this is my love letter for my car:
Thank you for all your years of hard work and devotion. I loved each and every one of the times we went camping, kayaking, hiking in the Gorge, and running out to the nude beaches. You were always reliable and I knew I could depend on you when nothing else in my life was constant. When I had terrible panic attacks or depression, you always took me to a safe place, whether to the woods or to people who could help.
I had a wonderful time on our cross country road trip, and I appreciated that we both sang the whole way and my singing never got on your nerves. It was glorious how you took my bike, kayak, and all my gear without a word of complaint. It was heavenly traveling with you, and even sleeping with you a few times. Oh the times we’ve toured around, just driving with the windows down and the music up. The stereo I finally installed that made you rock a little harder. Speaking of that, thank you for hosting the doctor and I when I decided I needed to christen you to purge the energy of my yuppie ex-fiance. Thank you for never telling anyone about some of the other naughty stories. Thank you for never passing judgment on some of the idiot guys I kissed around you. I’m so glad you never got jealous about all the other cars I drooled over, or how I got your seat wet whenever we went by the classic auto dealership.
I love your sexy little manual transmission, and how fun you look with the extra antenna (We’re both glad I took the CB one off, it was too much). I love that you are practical but sporty, and completely ubiquitous here since there are a zillion almost exactly like you in the area. None as cool though.
I love that you are nice enough to go anywhere, but messy enough to never get harassed or broken into. I am so sorry that it took me so long to figure out the hubcap issue, but damn they look beautiful on you now. I hope I can find you a happy home where they will adore you as much as I did. With some love, I know you can keep going for quite a while longer.
It’s been 121,000 miles we’ve been together, and I wanted it to be forever. I know you’re tired- you have 211,000 on you, and that’s a lot. It’s not fair for me to ask you to keep going when I can’t take care of you properly. I love you so much that I just don’t want to go on without you, and I can’t imagine a future without you in it. No one will ever be able to replace you. I suppose I can figure out what to do now, but life without you is going to be much…more challenging. I’m so sad to lose you, and honestly, I just want to give up. I know I can’t beg you to stay, we’d both end up only feeling worse. I’ll keep trying to figure out a solution, and in the meantime sweetheart, take a rest for a while. I found you a shady spot where you can relax and not feel pressured to do anything. I’ll come check on you to make sure you’re ok, and fingers crossed for the future. Sweet dreams.
Loss is part of life. Lots of people manage with much less, and I’ve been lucky to have a car at all. Damn though. I wish fairy godmothers really did exist. I don’t need the dress, the ball, or the social vindication. I just would like the carriage. And maybe a pumpkin or two to cook with. Ok, ok, I would love the dress too, as long as it’s practical and not that foofy.
You Might Think- The Cars
I Will Always Love You- Whitney Houston