Mondays are not our favourite days. Especially when you hear from your insurance company and their settlement for your much loved little car is not what you were hoping. Is it childish to love a car so much?
I got my 1996 Acura Integra while I was in teacher's college and my dad thought I would need the wheels to get to the schools where I would be teaching. Now, I was always a public transit kind of person, living in metro Vancouver with buses and sky trains but my dad insisted and I returned home from classes one day and there she was sitting in the driveway. Shiney and sweet, not to mention fully loaded, she became my second home and accomodated my growing load of books and teacherly things.
When I moved out to London a few years later, I packed her up with all of my belongings and sent her across the country on a train. Somewhat spoiled from living in the temperate climates of the west coast, she had no problems adjusting to the harsh winters of Southwestern Ontario. And she did it without complaining, unlike myself.
Then a year and a half ago, when the hubby and I moved to Minnesota she was again packed up and away we went. T even learned how to drive in her at the ripe age of 28.
Before the accident she was still in great condition with a few more years ahead of her, even being twelve years old. T tells me that she went out like a champ and that we should remember her in her glory days, zipping around Vancouver, with the windows rolled down on our way to Grand Bend, and getting us across the boarder to Winnipeg (long story). So I'll wipe away my tears and thank Black-ee for keeping me safe during the accident and through all of these years and know that she had served us well. We love you Black-ee .
-T
I got my 1996 Acura Integra while I was in teacher's college and my dad thought I would need the wheels to get to the schools where I would be teaching. Now, I was always a public transit kind of person, living in metro Vancouver with buses and sky trains but my dad insisted and I returned home from classes one day and there she was sitting in the driveway. Shiney and sweet, not to mention fully loaded, she became my second home and accomodated my growing load of books and teacherly things.
When I moved out to London a few years later, I packed her up with all of my belongings and sent her across the country on a train. Somewhat spoiled from living in the temperate climates of the west coast, she had no problems adjusting to the harsh winters of Southwestern Ontario. And she did it without complaining, unlike myself.
Then a year and a half ago, when the hubby and I moved to Minnesota she was again packed up and away we went. T even learned how to drive in her at the ripe age of 28.
Before the accident she was still in great condition with a few more years ahead of her, even being twelve years old. T tells me that she went out like a champ and that we should remember her in her glory days, zipping around Vancouver, with the windows rolled down on our way to Grand Bend, and getting us across the boarder to Winnipeg (long story). So I'll wipe away my tears and thank Black-ee for keeping me safe during the accident and through all of these years and know that she had served us well. We love you Black-ee .
-T
2 comments:
I'm sorry.
When I traded in my very first car I got a sudden surge of nostalgia as I handed over the keys. I actually asked for a "moment" and kissed the car goodbye (right on the steering wheel). The sales guy told my husband he'd never seen that before.
Thanks, Katherine. I probably would've given my car a kiss too!
-T
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