We knew this day would come. We knew you could not last forever. But it still pains us, knowing that this is most likely the end. We can see in that smoke pouring from the crankcase that you are probably destined for the great parking lot in the sky. You joined the family a few months before I was born, five years ago this month. Then, you were a shiny, hard-charging Buick. You were in the prime of life, having just ticked over 40,000 miles on the odometer. Your combination of full-size comfort and respectable fuel economy served us well over the years. We went on countless trips together -- to the dog park, the mosque, PetSmart. You took us to Chicago in style; it was your kind of town. You helped us see New Orleans before the floods came. You took us to Colorado twice, scaling the highest heights of Rocky Mountain National Park. If anything, your mighty V6 seemed to grow stronger in the thin mountain air. Your responsive brakes never overheated.
But now, after more than 100,000 miles together, it seems that you are able to run no more. I had a bad feeling when I saw that big cloud of smoke in the rearview mirror. It was your lifeforce, quickly draining away. Though you struggled mightily, your cylinders missing and your "check engine" light flashing, you brought me home safely one last time, reaching that familiar oil stain on the driveway. If it is truly God's will that this is the end, then I wish you well, Buick. Go onward to that great parking lot in the sky. And know that with that ever-present layer of pug fur on the passenger seat, you take a piece of me along with you.
6 comments:
I'm so sorry for your loss. You will be in my thoughts and prayers today.
That was a very touching tribute to your transporation friend.
May God provide an even better vehicle for your transportation needs.
The Big Green Bean (the green minivan) I drive has 245,000 miles on it and I dread the day I must face what you have had to experience. My thoughts and prayers are with you and the Buick during your time of loss
A sad day indeed for such a mighty steed. Mama gets so attached to her cars - she drove the first 4-door Accord in Shreveport for 13 years, including several years after Dad bought her a new Cherokee.
Mama kept driving the "Silver Bullet" and Dad kept getting more frustrated with her...so he just up and sold it. Mama came home one day and found out what Dad had done and I thought she was going to have a Kanipshun Fit.
Once Mama calmed down and bonded with the new Jeep, she and Dad took old Rosebud all over the country. They used to go to Silverton, Colorado almost every summer. I wonder if you're the pug they met going over Engineer Pass?
Dad won't take us anywhere anymore because Rosebud misbehaves so badly. The last time he took us to the Smokies, he told Rosebud she'd better have a heck of a good time...cuz' she wasn't ever going anywhere again!
Thank you all for your kind words.
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