When I first got you, I was too scared to drive off the lot. I wouldn’t change lanes. I was terrible at parking. I bought so many air fresheners and I carefully crafted mix cds. I was sure I’d get hit on my first long drive to my hometown. But you were small and cute and gave me infinite possibility.
Like that time I slept overnight in parking garage cause I was too drunk to drive home, and I couldn’t pay the $20 parking ticket.
Or that time I had to pull over after a Halloween party for my friend to puke out the window.
Or anytime I was with him, pushing seats back as far as they could go.
Then, there’s getting sideswiped at 10:58am when all I wanted was to make it to Burger King breakfast by 11. And the lawsuits and payouts that followed.
And your inevitable death from a soccer mom in an SUV.
Both your driver and passenger doorhandles broke, making you a deathtrap nobody could escape. You still smelled of smoke form the last owner and had a chunk of the steering wheel missing and the hood bounced like it’d fly off. You were just like me – a mess but somehow still together.
Leaving random houses at 5am after drinking too much. Sitting in the car to sober up and waiting for the dew to evaporate.
The times I didn’t wait to sober up, when I should have.
Too many google map routes. Cross state marathons. 30k in two years.
4 tires going bad at once.
Practicing reading my syllabus before my first day of teaching.
Checkers drive thru at 2am.
contemplating the universe on long drives.
thanks, baby blue. You’ll be missed.