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