well after a lot of false starts, it seems we have sold the car.

(small rant aside: If you call and get directions and say you’re going to come look at our car, it is RUDE to do a no call – no show, and then chickenshit to *NOT answer the phone* when we call you back to see if you are still coming!! Three people pulled that crap… as if we have nothing better to do than sit around waiting for people…)

but now, brucie is going to a good home. i will miss him. i don’t know why I get so attached to them, but i always fall hard for my cars.

my first car was the old family hand-me-down, “the silver bullet”. He was a 1984 toyota cargo van, converted into a 7 passenger minivan – one of the very first off the line. i took my very first long road-trip by myself in that car, and remember being terrified getting caught in a really bad storm where the car wanted to carry itself across a four-lane highway. he made me very popular when I worked at a remote camp in the catskill mountains and none of the other camp counselors had any way of getting into town on their days off. he was unfailingly sound of motor, and never broke down on me. he was reliable and steady and i passed him down to my siblings when i moved to new york. in the end, “the silver bullet” lived for 14 years and went more than 200,000 miles – takes a licking and keeps on ticking.

my next car was also a family inheritance. “phantom” was a gunmetal grey 1986 chevy caprice classic. a real battleaxe of a car – the frame of that sucker was pure american steel, and I never felt safer. he was a guardian – i knew that nothing could happen to me in that car, he was so solid. my sis owned him before me and drove him into the back of a giant truck, so his hood liked to bounce around a bit and looked like it wore a permanent grin. He was rear wheel drive, and my apartment was on a steep one-way hill, so winter driving was always an adventure. he was boiling hot in the summer and freezing in the winter, but he served me well, lived a good long life, and went to the aids charitable organisation in the afterlife.

my third car was yet another relation donation. “bandit” was a smoke-coloured 1996 mitsubishi galant from my brother. he was my daily ride to and from work for the 3 years I lived in boston, and i *loved* driving him. i took him everywhere, and he really felt like another part of my family. we went to provincetown and montreal and new york and new hampshire on a regular basis. we went to the beach when it was fine and sunny, and the mountains when the weather called for a hike. my dog suzie sat in back with her seatbelt on, and we’d just drive. anywhere. everywhere. it didn’t matter. the driving was the thing. he had a sunroof which leaked, and I was forever taping up the edges, but in a secret way, i loved his quirks. he was my car during my divorce, and whenever i needed to get away, he was there. he wasn’t fancy, and he wasn’t big. he was your average mid-sized foreign economy car, but he saved my sanity in a million small ways. Having to sell him to finance my move to london was supremely difficult, and I still miss the feel of the stickshift in my hand.

so maybe it’s because remembering when j bought “brucie” reminds me of the very beginning of our relationship, when everything was new and exciting. maybe it’s because brucie was my first car in the UK, and allowed us to get the hell out of london when urban living got to be too much. maybe it’s because the memories of him will always be associated with my first memories of my new life with jonno.

so call me silly and sentimental. all i know is that i will miss our faithful friend, and remember him fondly.

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