The Giving Car

If you saw me right now, you would probably think that a) I lost a beloved pet or b) I just got punched in the face, when in all actuality, I just lost my first and only car to a salvage yard.

This event teamed with the broken air conditioner of our other vehicle teamed with my encroaching 26th birthday is the perfect makings for an emotional overreaction. Nothing like a car to remind you that you are closer to 30 now than 20.

Justin called to report the news from his work site in Osceola, where it was discovered that my lovely '99 Camry had a hole in the engine and the cost exceeded the car's worth. He consoled me lovingly, knowing that this car had seen me through many stages of life. He finally concluded, however, that coughing up our savings was not advisable and that the Camry would be left in Osceola. And I didn't even get to say goodbye.

I wept. And then told myself it was a car. A piece of metal. And then I cried more.

I realize that places like that can't pay you in memories so they usually just offer you like $200. It's hard to believe that the car that somehow helped you survive being 16, transported you through 6 years of college, and drove you to your honeymoon has amounted to a large grocery bill. But that's life, right?

I feel like people who were raised on old faithful junk cars will hear me out on this. I feel like we have a shared experience with our vehicles. You hate them at the time, but in the end they kind of remind you of yourself, taking some beatings, breaking down on the side of a highway and always missing a few hubcaps. But when they make it to where you want them to go or they come out of that auto repair shop one more time, you are reminded that you, too, can make it.

I remember having pillows in the back of one of our old cars as kids. We would occasionally have "car conk out" drills in which Mom would ask, "If we're stalled in the middle of Kingshighway, what do you do?" We would pull the pillows up and shield each other. Though we thankfully never had to use them and I highly doubt it would have even worked, it was an experience passengers of brand new vehicles never get to have.

My parents actually just salvaged the old van I despised as an adolescent. Mom informed me today that her and Dad had deemed it "The Giving Van" (based loosely on Shel Silverstein's "The Giving Tree") because it would help with some of our car finances right now. It gave until it could give no more. It drove us to endless basketball games, band practices and family trips. And when it decided it was time to go, it provided a newly married couple with the last small token it had remaining.

If you haven't read the children's book I spoke of earlier, I highly recommend it. In "The Giving Tree," this little boy uses this tree his whole life-- he swings on it, he picks apples, he eventually makes a boat out of it. When he comes back as an older man, the tree thinks she has nothing left to offer him. But she soon finds out he is weary and tired and that her stump is the perfect resting place. And the tree was happy.

I am not old and weary yet, thank goodness, but I feel like my car has given me the last thing she has to give-- and that is wonderful memories. And when I'm telling my kids about why they don't drive a brand new car, I will recount the day my parents' overused phrase, "Old cars build character" was proven right.

And the Camry was happy.