end of an era.

a song to set the scene // how it was will never be again by syml

She was my first.

They never tell you about the bond you have with your first car, how much it hurts to say goodbye.

Being the emotionally-attached-to-inanimate-objects type, I knew this kind of goodbye would be hard on me.

It was the trailer hitch I ran over that did her in. Having survived nearly running out of gas in the Oregon mountains, the smash ‘n grab in San Francisco, and the many road trips across the USA, the transmission injury was the one that ended her days on the road.

I guess after-market Fiat transmissions cost a lot.

I was devastated, to say the least.

And so, on a windy wintry day, my gem and I braved the gusts and and went to the auto repair shop where she was waiting and cleared her out.

The first thing to catch my eye in the back seat was an appropriate box of tissues. It’s like she knew. As I emptied cup holders and debris hidden under the seats, the tears fell. Memories of our ten year courtship flooded me.

She went everywhere with me: from Alaska, to Washington, California, across to South Dakota. She braved a blizzard in Lusk, Wyoming, was my shelter during many cry sessions on the streets of San Francisco whenever I tried to find a parking spot in Haight Ashbury, and was my comfort during road trips with my siblings. Although I had one ticket to my name when I got pulled over in Topaz, Nevada, Tall 1 remained strong.

She was a part of me and my identity.

That little blue Fiat, roaming the roads of Alaska.

But it was time to say goodbye.

Or, as my sister reminded me, my thank yous.

Sitting in her seats one last time, I took a look at the Barbie style dashboard and thanked her.

I thanked her for keeping me safe, for providing me transportation, for storing my things on my many moves, for being there during cry and jam sessions alike, and for all the memories she gave me.

Though I will no longer have the pleasure of driving her, those memories will stay with me forever, and every time I see another blue Fiat on the road, it’ll make me think of her.

Gone, but never forgotten.

I’ll wheel-y miss you Tall 1.