We sold one of our cars yesterday. We had this car for 13 years. We tend to get attached to things, particularly things that are attached to good family memories. We bought this sleek, but safe, quick, but safe, stylish, but safe, modern station wagon when our children were in the age range of 10-2. They used to fight, for the right, to sit in the backwards facing seats, making faces at and engaging with, the drivers behind us, until they started to outgrow the seat. As the kids grew (and boy did they grow!), I moved on to the obligatory Mom’s SUV and my husband commuted to work in the wagon. Finally, it became the main car for our second son, who drove it to many soccer practices and games and proms and summer jobs and beach outings and even back and forth to his university for a couple of years. It became an extension and symbol of him and he even bought a sticker for it, saying Wagonsteez, a monniker that he proudly shared with this car that he loved. Since both of the middle boys are at the same university this year, we no longer had a need for this extra car and at 192,000 miles, it had more than fulfilled its faithful duty to us. It had seen us safely through family trips, through rain, sleet and snow, and all the while being reliable, and safe, with a timeless, classic style that still made it sell-able after all of these years and adventures. We texted our children (with lumps in our throats) that we had sold that wagon last night. My son, “Wagonsteez”, replied only “In My Heart Forever.”
“A car isn’t a classic just because it’s old. To be a classic, a car has to tell us something of its time.” – James May
I cried when I it was time to move on from the minivan.
I bought it when my sister and I were returning to LA after a trip to Albuquerque, where we had gone to visit with our ancient grandmother who was nearing the end of her life. We wanted her to meet her great-grandchildren. On the way home, the car I was driving threw a rod in the middle of the Arizona desert. We literally coasted into Winslow, AZ (yes, the town made famous by the Eagles in their song, Take It Easy) and 7 hours later we exited Winslow in a brand new minivan.
That vehicle faithfully performed the school commute for a decade, visited every skate park in So Cal, conveyed us on numerous camping trips and family vacations, and served as a training vehicle for a young driver. It was filled with love and laughter and friends galore, and after 12 years, it was part of the fabric of our lives. It was family.
When it became evident that it was going to cost more money to repair than the vehicle was worth, it was time to move on. I was enticed by the idea of a smaller, more efficient model that was bright and shiny and new. All the same, when we cleaned out the van, I discovered a lot of hidden memories (and some interesting stuff melted into the rear cupholders) and I broke down. My son thought I was insane, but my husband understood, and he simply said, “Don’t look back,” as we drove off in the new car.
I’ve often wished that the faithful van has gone on to bring joy to another young family, and that they create the same kind of amazing memories that we did with it.
That’s a beautiful story, Kelly. Honestly, the young man who purchased our car drove almost three hours to come get it and was so kind and excited that I just blessed our car for blessing us and asked it to bless this young man for years to come . . . And you are right, it would not surprise me if he found some petrified french fries in there, deep in between the seats. LOL
Exactly. Blessings all around.