“Bittersweet”, cliche though it may be, is an apt description of my current mood.
I just signed over the title to the Subaru to an auto body shop.
I told them if they were willing to tow it, they could have it for free. I probably could have gotten some money out of them, according to a coworker, but what price would have been right for a car that meant so much? It was dying, and fixing what was dying would be cost-prohibitive–better to simply buy a new car, which of course we did. But it was in good condition, and it hadn’t even crested the 100K mark. That’s amazing for a car put out in 1986.
I thought about doing something “pimp” (as 1997 AJ might say) and saving the little Subaru wheel decorations, then giving one to each of my brothers, one to Grandma, and keeping the last one. Really, I still think that would have been awesome. But yesterday, when I stopped by the car to make sure I hadn’t left anything in it, I didn’t have any tools with which to get them off–if indeed that’s possible without taking off the wheels. I don’t even know.
Maybe they screw on and off. I didn’t even think of that.
And this morning, all I did was arrive, sign the title, and leave.
I did, however, catch a glimpse of the old car on my way out of the parking lot.
And so that will be my final memory of the Subaru, Grandpa’s old car, a car that carted me from Kentucky to Georgia and from Georgia to Kentucky countless times, a car as loud as a tractor trailer, a car with an awesome hatchback style and cute grille, a car with a heavy hatch that couldn’t hold itself open, a car that ting-tonged at you if you opened the doors with the keys still in the ignition.
I loved that car. And despite how much I adore my new Yaris, I am really going to miss it.