I’m grieving. My car has died. My poor car. I’ve owned this wonderful Nissan NX 2000 for 17 years, since buying it new in 1992 in Chicago. It has a little over 91,000 miles on it.
It’s death is not an insignificant event. That car was as much a part of me as my breath. Now, it breathes no more. In it’s last throes it has been trying to speak to me. It’s been telling me that life is running out.
That car represented a hold on hope. It kept me going - literally and
figuratively. I poured hundred of dollars into it in the last two
years, trying desparately to keep it on the road, and on the mend. I
paid for overdue parking fines and overpriced parking spaces. I put
new tires, brakes and radiator into it. I nursed it like a loved one.
But, it would keep failing on me. During those times without
transportation, I was off my game. I felt trapped and powerless. When
it was running, I felt I had options, the possibility of freedom and
prosperity - maybe even, perish the thought, happiness.
My poor car has endured the travails of my life. It has carried me
through good times and bad, surviving blow after blow. It has been a
faithful mechanical steed.
Now, it has given up the ghost - given away for scrap parts. Rest in peace, my friend.
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