I can’t figure this one out. Moments ago I recovered from a crying jag as I watched my car being towed away from my home. We donated it to an organization. It wasn’t running well and had a variety of issues which we weren’t going to fix. A solid, wonderful Infinity SUV, it had been a good ship, hauling around myself and family. The tow guy attached chains to the front of the car and up it went, the sun gleaming on it, as it was slowly raised onto the back of the tow truck. Like a conveyor belt hoisting it for its last ride.
Years ago, my son named our cars based on size and color. This Infinity was called Big Silver. My daughter’s Orange Crush stain is still in the back seat, we never got it out. My dog, Max, who passed last year, —his hair is still in there. The broken DVD player still has Zoolander stuck inside. Diddo the six track CD player. Big Silver left with the soundtracks for My Fair Lady, Chicago, as well as Abba, Bad Company, Boston, and Andrea Bocelli’s Romanza. My kids and I sang and rocked out to all of these while we were in the car, until it broke.
I’ve had lots of cars in my life, but I’ve usually left them at the dealership, trading them in for the next one. I arranged for this one to be picked up at my home. Big Silver carried my memories with it as I watched it drive off on the flatbed down the street. It carried a piece of my life, which I will cherish and never get back. I can’t believe how much the sight of its departure affected me. I have a new car, a new puppy friend, new people in my life, new places to go, and new adventures in front of me. But. Big Silver had seen it all.
The DNA from my tears are most likely still on the steering wheel after a variety of life events had me seek shelter in the car for a release of emotion. I can clearly visualize my children in the backseat with Cheetos stuck up their nose as we drove to our cabin, me yelling at them from the front to stop their nonsense, but enjoying every minute of it. My dog’s head out the window of Big Silver was a constant. Max went with me everywhere until his end.
Big Silver’s departure was a visual representation of a friend leaving forever. A part of my life I would never see again. A friend who had experienced the last ten years of my life, both good and bad, now only a memory.
I held on to my new baby dog, Gemma, and she experienced her first bout of comforting her mama while she cried. Dogs are so instinctual, she actually whimpered as I held my face in my hands and cried.
I don’t know. I guess I wanted to acknowledge this. Thank you, Big Silver. I’ll miss you.