R.I.P., my old friend. You don't owe me anything.
Hey, buddy. Can I call you “buddy”? I guess I never really gave you a name. I just wanted to say a few words in remembrance of you.
10 years. That’s what you gave me. 10 solid years of all facets of life in motion: university, commuting, auditions, several long road trips, and many camping trips down very poor road conditions. You carried my canoe back and forth from BC to Saskatchewan 3 times, you moved my wife and I to Vancouver, and you drove my firstborn home from the hospital and through the first 2 years of her life.
Sure, we had our rough patches. In the early years it seemed like we bled cash trying to maintain your axles and exhaust. Seemed like we replaced everything under your hood at least once. But for the past several years you have been virtually cost free to own and operate. And overall... you've been a VERY inexpensive vehicle indeed.
Hey, remember that time in Saskatoon when, over the course of 6 months, and well over a thousand bucks later, we finally discovered (thanks to that little boy-mechanic at Canadian Tire) that your steering wheel shimmy was due NOT to your poor wheel alignment, or bent axles, or shoddy transmission – no those things we repaired or replaced for no reason it seems - but rather it was due to a cracked plastic spoke on your left tire’s $25 wheel cover.
Good times, buddy. Good times. Well, we showed ‘em, didn’t we? We tossed those wheel covers and never looked back. From then on you became the car we loved for who you were. And you took it like a man-car. And for that I am truly grateful.
Cracked wheel covers? Who cares! Throw ‘em out and look like an unmarked police car.
No antenna and therefore no AM radio? Who cares? Learn to love Top 40 FM radio.
Temperature knob cracked? Who cares? Glue it. Then when it happens for the 10th time, throw it out and put a pair of needle-nose pliers in the car.
Driver-side window doesn’t seal without major manual assistance? Who cares? Only roll it down when absolutely necessary.
Cracked windshield broken from the inside by foolish mishandling of an anti-theft device? Who cares? Look around it.
Discoloured tint peeling from back window? Who cares? Just, “who cares?”.
Hood buckled up and looks like it’s always open even when it’s latched? Who cares? Enjoy the fact that everyone will shout after you.... “Hey, you forgot to close your hood.”
Water entering the trunk somehow and causing the liner to be perma-damp with a nasty odour in there? Who cares? Well, Rach did. But I didn’t.
A rat or squirrel gets under the hood and chews all plastic parts to crap? Who cares? Epoxy, man.
Chipmunks get in there while camping, make a bed under the seat, and urinate in the Frisbee? Who cares? I love chipmunks.
That’s right – WHO CARES?!?
Not me. You were a man’s car.
An “A to B” car.
A “no monthly payment” car.
A “Look at me, I don’t need a new car” car.
A “Nice car, Nez!” car.
A “Wow, how many km on THAT?!” car.
My car.
Ooooooh, I will miss being able to set whatever I was carrying in your hood or top? Coffee cup? Child’s play! Back pack with buckles all over the place? Sure! A bag of wood screws? Oh ya, baby!! Toss ‘em here! A bunch of keys slid across the top to a friend with an open hand pressing in a downward force? No problem! Bring it.
So.... what else can I say? You left us suddenly. I rolled you to the side of the road last Thursday night on Fraser Highway, not realizing I’d never drive you again. I had it towed to my mechanic and when he called me and said your timing belt slipped and that your valves were most likely bent because of that, and that the job was going to be between 2 and 3 thousand, PLUS the cost of replacing the catalytic converter in order to pass Air Care (which you failed that very day).... well... I knew it was time to let you go.
Do Not Resuscitate. Please, just let him go. Rach, no, babe. I know, Hon, I know. Just... just let him go. He would want it that way.
I’ll never forget you, buddy. You’ll be that one car I tell my kids about. Sure, I’ll enjoy the rush of sitting behind the wheel of my new car – a 2009 Range Rover Supercharged. But... I don’t think I will EVER love a car as much as I have loved you. And no more keys sliding either. Sad. Very sad.
Alas... you’re scrap. Cheers to you, pal.
~nez
Rest in Peace, Blue Honda Accord Sedan EX (1991), with me from Feb 25, 1999 (150,900km) until Feb 12, 2009 (341,730km).
(Summer 1999)
(Feb 2009 - Paying final respects)
10 years. That’s what you gave me. 10 solid years of all facets of life in motion: university, commuting, auditions, several long road trips, and many camping trips down very poor road conditions. You carried my canoe back and forth from BC to Saskatchewan 3 times, you moved my wife and I to Vancouver, and you drove my firstborn home from the hospital and through the first 2 years of her life.
Sure, we had our rough patches. In the early years it seemed like we bled cash trying to maintain your axles and exhaust. Seemed like we replaced everything under your hood at least once. But for the past several years you have been virtually cost free to own and operate. And overall... you've been a VERY inexpensive vehicle indeed.
Hey, remember that time in Saskatoon when, over the course of 6 months, and well over a thousand bucks later, we finally discovered (thanks to that little boy-mechanic at Canadian Tire) that your steering wheel shimmy was due NOT to your poor wheel alignment, or bent axles, or shoddy transmission – no those things we repaired or replaced for no reason it seems - but rather it was due to a cracked plastic spoke on your left tire’s $25 wheel cover.
Good times, buddy. Good times. Well, we showed ‘em, didn’t we? We tossed those wheel covers and never looked back. From then on you became the car we loved for who you were. And you took it like a man-car. And for that I am truly grateful.
Cracked wheel covers? Who cares! Throw ‘em out and look like an unmarked police car.
No antenna and therefore no AM radio? Who cares? Learn to love Top 40 FM radio.
Temperature knob cracked? Who cares? Glue it. Then when it happens for the 10th time, throw it out and put a pair of needle-nose pliers in the car.
Driver-side window doesn’t seal without major manual assistance? Who cares? Only roll it down when absolutely necessary.
Cracked windshield broken from the inside by foolish mishandling of an anti-theft device? Who cares? Look around it.
Discoloured tint peeling from back window? Who cares? Just, “who cares?”.
Hood buckled up and looks like it’s always open even when it’s latched? Who cares? Enjoy the fact that everyone will shout after you.... “Hey, you forgot to close your hood.”
Water entering the trunk somehow and causing the liner to be perma-damp with a nasty odour in there? Who cares? Well, Rach did. But I didn’t.
A rat or squirrel gets under the hood and chews all plastic parts to crap? Who cares? Epoxy, man.
Chipmunks get in there while camping, make a bed under the seat, and urinate in the Frisbee? Who cares? I love chipmunks.
That’s right – WHO CARES?!?
Not me. You were a man’s car.
An “A to B” car.
A “no monthly payment” car.
A “Look at me, I don’t need a new car” car.
A “Nice car, Nez!” car.
A “Wow, how many km on THAT?!” car.
My car.
Ooooooh, I will miss being able to set whatever I was carrying in your hood or top? Coffee cup? Child’s play! Back pack with buckles all over the place? Sure! A bag of wood screws? Oh ya, baby!! Toss ‘em here! A bunch of keys slid across the top to a friend with an open hand pressing in a downward force? No problem! Bring it.
So.... what else can I say? You left us suddenly. I rolled you to the side of the road last Thursday night on Fraser Highway, not realizing I’d never drive you again. I had it towed to my mechanic and when he called me and said your timing belt slipped and that your valves were most likely bent because of that, and that the job was going to be between 2 and 3 thousand, PLUS the cost of replacing the catalytic converter in order to pass Air Care (which you failed that very day).... well... I knew it was time to let you go.
Do Not Resuscitate. Please, just let him go. Rach, no, babe. I know, Hon, I know. Just... just let him go. He would want it that way.
I’ll never forget you, buddy. You’ll be that one car I tell my kids about. Sure, I’ll enjoy the rush of sitting behind the wheel of my new car – a 2009 Range Rover Supercharged. But... I don’t think I will EVER love a car as much as I have loved you. And no more keys sliding either. Sad. Very sad.
Alas... you’re scrap. Cheers to you, pal.
~nez
Rest in Peace, Blue Honda Accord Sedan EX (1991), with me from Feb 25, 1999 (150,900km) until Feb 12, 2009 (341,730km).
(Summer 1999)
(Feb 2009 - Paying final respects)posted by Nez | 12:55 a.m.
3 Comments:
Sorry to hear about your loss. He has gone to join 1986 Red VW Jetta with 450,000+kms in that great place where cars go to retire. I feel your pain...
LOL. Seriously. By myself in office, laughing out loud. And crying a little bit. And so close to peeing my pants, I have to stop typing now.
OK. What are you REALLY driving now? I need to know where to place the small duck pamphlet when my turn comes around again.
Joel "Starting to crave Rainbow6 again, but finding that children really cramp this style" Dueck
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