I guess it’s time we said good bye.
This is harder than I thought it would be. I kind of like you.
Scuff Scuff. I kick my feet in the dirt.
I mean, we were pretty good friends, right? You’ve been with me for 20,000 miles – I don’t even want to think about that in terms of a time relationship, but *does some quick math* – that means that each month, we’ve spent between 3 and 4 days together. ENTIRE DAYS. Without SLEEPING. Like, I could have not paid RENT for 3 days and just slept in your backseat because that’s how much time we spent together.
I took you to Seattle and I slept in the back with you, looking up at the stars. We drove through Portland and up to Mt. St Helen and by Shasta and through Corvalis. I’ve seen a lot of friends because of you. I’ve also traveled a lot of places – places I probably should have just taken the bus, but instead, I popped down to the curb, found you waiting for me in your cute little parking spot, hopped in, and zoomed off.
You’ve been with me to LA and back, twice, even though one time I got in and drove just to drive because I didn’t know what else to do.
I get worried about you when we spend too many days apart. I don’t want anyone bumping into you, or scratching you, or breaking into you. If I leave you at work for too long, I sometimes want to go over their just to check on you.
You are one really, really, really big accessory. A 5,000 pound accessory that I like to take with me everywhere.
Unfortunately we had that nasty bump with the BMW – remember that CEO (sorry can’t name the company here)? – Hah, that was not one of our finer moments. At least he was nice to email with, after the bump. You definitely got my heart racing with that one.
I’m gonna miss my weekly naps with you – I mean, who am I kidding? When I pull those late nights at work and I’m too tired to think straight, you know that I take 45 minute sunshine naps outside in the warmth of the car. I’m like a cat – I’m looking for a little sunshine nap. During the winter, when it’s freezing, I just park in a little sunny spot and let the solar heat warm up the space in the car and I nap, staring out the window at the sunshine and daydreaming about the day when I get to be a freelance writer forever. Sometimes I fall asleep in there. (Good thing I keep my cell phone with me.)
Oh Matrix, it’s complicated.
I like the fact that you’re dark grey. I love the shape of the Matrix – even though my friend says you look fat and squat, I’ll defend you. I think you look cute and little. And I love that you fit into most parking spots but you can also keep my skis and bikes all stored up in the car. Brilliant, eh?
I also think your angry face is funny – most Toyota’s have that angry-looking set of headlights. It cracks. me. up. When I see another Toyota looking back at me at a stop sign or intersection, I usually laugh and giggle and scowl my face in a grimace (at least in my mind, I do), and pretend we’re having a mock-angry fight.
Awww crap, I think I’m getting teary-eyed. Who knew it would be this hard?
The fact is, having a car is awesome. And fun. And exceptionally easy and freeing. I love the seeming independence and autonomy that comes with the car. But the day-to-day ease of using the car doesn’t resonate with the $1051 dollars I fork over every month just to own it. That’s $35 a day just to own the car.
And do I want long-term financial independence or day-to-day location freedom?
Is selling the car getting me closer to the true kind of freedom I want?
I think it’s a balls-to-the-wall kind of decision. If I try to make the decision based on a single day, I’ll rationalize the heck out of selling the car.
‘Cause it turns out I really, really like my car.—
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