R.I.P., Little Blue Car
They say you never forget your first love. Well, that car has been with me through everything over the past year, and I loved him like a best friend. Dependable, strong, perfectly imperfect. He wore his scars on the outside, but instead of showing his weakness, they simply added character to an already wonderful being. He wasn’t a sexy car, but he was round and comforting, like a bowl of macaroni and cheese. He always knew how to cheer me up.
When I decided to move out of Manitoba and head East to Ontario, he supported me all the way. Without him, the move wouldn’t have been possible. I learned to drive stick with him, and he was very forgiving when I made mistakes, often able to lurch on through it when the shifting got rough.
I almost broke him twice within three months of owning him. The first time was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention, and I turned too sharply coming out of a parking lot. I broke his left front wheel clean off, but he forgave me. I never got around to fixing the dent it left, and instead just let him wear it as a battle scar. A few weeks later, we got rear ended. He took it like a champ, and we got him fixed up fully.
We used to go for long drives around the mountainside, and go waterfall hunting. He knew when I was having a bad day, and never complained about us going for a long drive until I could cool down. Sometimes when I was emotional I would squeeze the steering wheel, and sometimes it felt like he was squeezing back.
Rest in peace, Little Blue Car. I’ll never find another one quite like you.