This Is the End, My Friend

We recently purchased a new car, since my new job requires me to drive all over our great state of Misery. It's not that we only had one car already. It's just that my old friend, the '97 VW Golf, is on its last leg.

There's something about one's first car. Sure, I had junkers that I shared with my siblings, but this was the first new car I ever owned. I remember being persuaded by that VW ad with the Nick Drake song playing in the background that this was the car company that would somehow make my life better.

It was the ideal car for me. The hatchback and fold-down seats made it possible for me to leave Ohio forever, but I didn't leave for eight years. The six-disc CD changer allowed me to drive all over with the soundtrack to my life playing in the background. Chavez's Ride the Fader was the perfect album for long drives across rural Ohio. This car was for me.

As the years passed, I took this car everywhere. There was the not-so-well-thought-out backpacking trip through the U.P. in April. I drove it to Columbus (before moving there permanently), Detroit, Cleveland, Newport, KY, and Cincy for rock shows. I drove through the fog to and from Wisconsin for a Thanksgiving with Modest Mouse's new CD (The Lonesome Crowded West) on repeat. We took a 48-hour road trip to Coney Island for the first Siren Festival. Then, I drove my old friend here.

I'm not usually attached to things. Music, sporting events, good beer and food, sure. Friends and lovers will always have a place in my heart, but they have to make room for my car.

It was apparent the end was nearing when we closed on our first house and stayed to paint a couple of weeks before moving. The car broke down nine hours from home. I wasn't sure I'd even be able to bring it back at all. It turned out that the compressor could only work with the AC running while driving on the highway. The car would sputter to a stop whenever my speed dipped below 50. We made it home, and I returned with my car two weeks later.

Anyway, we bought the new car, a red Versa, to tool around COMO, while I drive all over Misery in R's Vibe. My car has already been sold off to a student thanks to our very odd insurance guy. All I need is to locate a new title, and she's gone. She's gone. Oh I. Oh, I'd better learn to face it. She's gone.

(Author's Note: I apologize for the Hall and Oates reference. I couldn't resist despite sounding way too melodramatic.)