A personal belonging

Mine. Was.

If you ever owned a car since she was brand spanking 9 miles old and then had to sell her a few years later, you would know then that is by far, one of lowest gut wrenching feelings of your speeding adulthood.

I still remember clearly, the spring of 2006 when I first laid my hands on her. My car had made her way from Japan just for me. The perfectness of her black outsides and the intoxicating aroma of the new leather would stay etched in memory forever. I had never owned anything so nice ever in my life. And as I drove her home from the dealership I basked in her the bluish glow if her dials and the navigation scree. If there ever was a halo on four wheels, that was it.

The last few years we did almost everything together. I had her come with me to endless road trips within the country. She also drove over international borders to Canada, sometimes through the worst of weathers. There was never an instant where her dependability could be questioned. On the coldest days, her engine cranked just fine in the mornings. On the hottest days, she cooled me down quickly.

The miles racked on and she just got better with time. Of course I pampered her with the best oil and fluids. Her paint was always protected in the shade and always hand washed with pH neutral shampoos. I consumed microfiber towels like they were ‘macro’. And I must have spent countless half of my Sundays to wax her silly and then use the rest of the day to get the smell of wax off my hands.

Of course, it was worth it. Every time I walked back to her after hard day’s work, I would find her glittering in the parking lot lights. Those yellow hues would glisten off here rear three quarters. On days when it had just rained, the beads on her body would each reflect light in harmony. Even when she was dirty on the side, the high crease that ran parallel to window would prominently be on display.

First loves are tricky. On most occasions they don’t work out for very practical reasons. Yet in your mind you constant look back favorably on the relationship and justify its presence in your life as worthwhile. Yet, with this as my first new car, there was no need for justification. The car was perfect in every way and she remained just so year after year.

Until, I made a decision to part ways. And then on a cold winter dreary Michigan Saturday, a man from Indiana came on by and bought the car at first sight and drive. She had impressed again even after 6 years and 90,000 miles of faithful service. A father buying a car for his son! Did the son know what he was going to be owning? I spewed endlessly about the gloriousness of my car but I feared it fell on deaf years. However, the son did seem to know a lot about cars and had always wanted a TSX. It could have been lot worse; she could have found someone who just wanted a ‘car’.

Prepping the car the day before the sale was emotionally draining. I cleaned the glove compartment. I check the trunk. I sat in the seat for a long time, running my hands around the wheel as if I was waiting for a change of course. But none came, so I just pecked her wheel slightly and left locking her up.

I watched her being driven away the next day. She had served me beyond brilliantly for the last few years. Without a whimper and without a squeak! While I know there would be other cars, cars with more horses, better drive trains and expensive brand marquees I would always back on my black TSX as one of the best cars I ever had the pleasure of owning and driving.

Bye Bye, love…