Monday, April 18, 2016
Is it silly to write a goodbye blog to an automobile? Perhaps. Am I anthropomorphising here? Um. Yes. I was relieved when I came out to wait for my Lyft ride that they had already taken it away. My betrayal complete and my voucher in hand, I couldn't wait to get the hell out of that off-Coliseum Way cul-de-sac, inaptly called Julie Ann Way, more fitting for a sweet-faced babysitter than a locale for destroying cars, where the sound of a grinding engine is ever-present. It also had to be at least 15 degrees warmer there than the rest of Oakland.
At 26, I was far too immature to stroll onto a dealership lot by myself, so I arrived with my mom, stepdad, and sister for moral support. After much indecision, hand-wringing and lunch, I rolled off the lot with a gold SL1 beauty and was thrilled to have a brand new car. I paid it off in 1998 and just today, sent it off to scrap heap. The check for $1000 should arrive in a couple days. You read that right: a grand for this ol' gal with probably 200K miles on it. Why "probably"? The odometer gave up the ghost 3 or 4 years ago. The speedometer is out. Oh, and the rear defroster. And the air conditioner. Under the hood, you don't wanna know, but it made it to its last rodeo.