Last spring I parked my little gold Corolla on a side street in Downtown Boulder while I spent a full day in a strategy meeting. It was overcast and drizzly all day, and when I returned to my car for the ride home, the driver's seat was soaking wet. So wet, that when I got home, my pants were drenched and dripping when I changed out of them. I assumed that I had left a window cracked, and chastised myself accordingly. Then, later in the week I found myself getting splashed in the face periodically while driving in the rain.
I checked the window, which was definitely closed. Befuddled, I followed the drops to a seam along the windshield. On the outside along the glass, the car has rust spots that prevented me from having the pocked windshield replaced a couple of years ago because once removed, nobody could guarantee they would be able to properly install another piece of glass. (Apparently this is a common issue with Japanese cars from the late 90's.) I called my dad with a heavy heart to ask about potential remedies, and he casually delivered the news that it was probably time to let the car go.
We coasted through the dry Colorado summer without incident, but when her registration came due in August, I decided it would be silly to keep a car during the winter that I couldn't stay dry(or keep passengers dry) in during inclement weather. I followed the advice on the radio and donated my loyal vehicle to CPR for auction. I know it's silly to have become so attached to a possession, but when the man came to take her, and loaded her onto a tow truck behind a Saab that had all of its back windows smashed out, my heart broke a little.
We had a great 13 years together, and I am so grateful for having had such reliable transportation. I bought her a week before I needed to be back on campus to start my senior year at DePauw. She needed an O2 sensor pretty early on, and I replaced the struts and the clutch at 120K. I could change the oil myself, and the mechanics of the engine are in fine shape - cosmetically, the car is just falling apart. I've put up with a lot of little issues, though, because the task of replacing a low-maintenance manual transmission that averaged 40 mpg is a tall order in our current automated and computerized society.
Together we managed 6 interstate moves, 2 degrees, launched a business, and taught 4 boyfriends how to drive a stick shift. We explored the Midwest, the Rocky Mountains, the Southwestern Desert, and endured countless hours on I-70. We listened to lots of books on tape(then CD, when I upgraded her deck), scanned the radio in at least 15 different states, and hosted joyful dance parties for one. When my other golden sidekick joined my life, I got to bring Bosco along for the ride, and the window was the perfect height for him to sit in the back seat and still have his ears flap in the wind.
To my perfect-for-me '98, thank you for the years of protection, opening up possibilities and adventures, and helping me "get things done." You've set the bar high, and no matter what I drive in the future, you'll always be my favorite.
