Beautiful And Fucked Up. Ah, Irony (May 23, 2008)

Current mood:melancholy

Well, in about 1 hour, I sell my beautiful fucked up car. My purple Cavalier has been my only car that was mine. I had a Taurus and a Crown Vic, but both were just handed to me. I worked and worked to get my own car and I bought my beloved Cavalier. 

I love that car and its "My Car" smell. I think about the things that that car reminds me of and I almost want to cry. When I was cleaning it out to sell, I found various things in there, reminding me of times past. There was an old pre-paid phone card in there, from one of many times I ran out of minutes and had to pit-stop somewhere to continue texting.... I found one of Rick's black ink pens in there, likely from a time when things were still good. I found an empty box of Industrial AA batteries in there from when I'd sneak out there in the middle of the night to diddle.... A solitary cough drop (cherry) from when I was sick as a dog, but still had to drive an hour to work each day. Spare keys from God knows where.... All sorts of things. 

That car means a lot to me and it hurts me in a place in my heart that I didn't know was there to sell it. I've loved, fought, and cried in that car. Sure, the door panel has fallen off now, and the radio is wonky, but it's MY car. Nothing in my life has ever been or will ever be perfect. Everything I hold dear is tarnished in some way. Dented and dinged. Scratched and bent. But that never has reduced the value to me. My car almost feels like that thought made solid, today. Its old and used, and banged up and no one looks twice at it... but I love it with all my heart and I will miss it terribly, if only because of the things its seen and the memories it holds.