This is one of those completely shameful, self-absorbed types of ramblings, so please pass on by.
I drove my car for the last time today. I didn't know it was the last time, but I had been out twice, first to take Bean to her gym class and then Bug. I parked the car in the garage, took the groceries out of the trunk and came in and had lunch.
My husband has been talking about buying a minivan, and we actually went out last week just to have a brief look. I was thinking it wouldn't work out, actually half hoping it wouldn't. The price of the Sienna was too high and the salesguy who descended on us as we were actually driving into the parking lot was a little weird. He had the personality of a rabid chihuahua, according to DH, and he actually did a call back and couldn't remember who we were or what we had been looking at, even though DH called him the day before.
Anyway, the hubby thought he'd go out, tell them the price we were willing to pay, and maybe we could make a deal. I still had reservations, but I had said, "Yeah, it's a nice car, wouldn't mind having it." The Man and I came to an agreement of a price we weren't willing to go above and the idea we might enter into a buying transaction in that case. Still it seemed unlikely anything would happen soon, and I thought I'd have more time to make the final decision. The eternal procrastination of a poor decision maker. Still, "Nothing is happening today," was the parting shot as DH walked out of the house. Then a call from his cell: "This might be happening today."
DH came home to get me to sign the papers. He had driven my car up there for the dealer to assess for trade in value. We talked about not doing that, but finally decided that was going to be part of the deal. When he came back to get me, he was in the new car. My car now belonged to the dealer. I grabbed my camera and my children, and decided I'd say a private good-bye to my sweet Camry, give her a kiss and check her over once more just to be sure everything was out.
I found her back next to a bunch of other cars near the chainlink fence, stripped of her license plates, but still sporting her LLL bumpersticker. I found out there was some more of my stuff in the car, when I used my keys for the last time. I told her I loved her and would miss her, but I forgot the kiss. I tried to take my bumper sticker off, hoping to preserve it in it's entiretly. I've had good luck with that using hot water, but it was useless in the cold weather with nothing but my fingernails. I got half off and decided to leave the rest, sad at this point that I just hadn't left the whole thing.
I felt guilty leaving her there. She was the car I bought when my very first car, a gray Chevrolet Cavalier, threw a rod. I bought her before I had my first child, knowing I would need a sturdy, dependable car. And that she was. I had just taken her in for an oil change and emissions inspection. I got a brakelight replaced too. The man at the service station told me these cars were great and I could drive her for another 10 years with no problems. The guy at the dealership told me that the timing belt would need to be replaced at 60,000 miles, but I was still 15,000 from that.
That Camry carried me to the hospital when I was in labor with my first baby, running over a rabbit in her haste to get me there on time. We rode away from the hospital two days later, the Camry safely carrying Bug to her new home. Later we left that home for a new one in another state, and the Camry took us there. She carried our homeborn baby out to her first doctor's appointment. She's taken numbers of family members to their chosen destinations, be it the beach or Starbucks for the New York Times.
She's taken me to parks, churches, restaurants, libraries, stores, museums, karaoke bars, amusements from San Diego to Los Angeles, Sacramento to San Francisco, the parking garages of Disneyland, the beautiful drive around Lake Tahoe, the depressing smog flats of the Modesto to Bakersfield. She's taken me and some children to a drive-in movie theater, where I dented her hood by lying on it. She's driven over a lot of packed snow, and slipped on some ice a few weeks ago, causing us to slide down the hill. I had to go and get my husband's AWD car, which is in part what precipiated our haste in replacing the Camry this year instead of next. We had discussed it last year and decided to wait a few more.
She was a good car, with comfortable seats. More comfortable, really, than the Sienna, and I liked the way she handled. I like being lower to the ground, and the Camry seat seems more expansive and solid than the ones in the minivan. The minivan is cool and has some great features. I'm excited to have her, but I'll definitely miss my Camry. I didn't realize the depth of my feelings until I stood staring vacantly in my kitchen, realizing I was actually depressed, after arriving home from signing the papers for the Sienna, and signing over my title to the Camry. I have a new car and I'm actually sad about it. How screwed up is that? It's ridiculous, I know, but I've gotten definite feelings about cars before. The old Caprice I inherited from my parents hated me, and I wasn't so fond of her either. I was sad when I had to leave my Cavalier, and I actually cried at the time even though I felt like we had some prickly times between us. With the Camry, it was only love. I had had a chance to replace her before, and I didn't, so now here I am, feeling so oddly sentimental and attached to a car.
I took the camera and took one last photo of her, a pretty crappy one with it being dark and having so many other cars near her, but it was the best I could get. 1999 dark blue Toyota Camry XLE (that I bought in 1998 and got dinged the first week), you were a great car. I hope you bring your new owners as much pleasure as you've brought me. Good-bye.
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