Eulogy

I recently sold my first car, a blue 1991 Volvo 240 4-door sedan, to Michael from Oak Park on Craig's List. Obviously a guy with an eye for a classic. I'd like to take a moment to remember her boxy lines, her faded upholstery, her powdery paint, her stereo that turned off every time you hit a pothole. We went a lot of miles together, the two of us, and she was a trouper all the way, gasping up and down mountains in Vermont or bumbling along the expressways at a breezy 55 mph. It took us a while to work together well: I came to realize she just needed a little helping hand now and then. So I'd turn that AC off going up hills, and she thanked me with her engine burping back to life.

Oh, sure, her health had been declining in recent years, and she'd gotten a bit fragile. But I've forgiven her for the cut I got on my hand when I leaned on the plastic divider between the front seats and it shattered under my weight. And I learned to turn corners more gently, so as to keep her chrome molding from flying off in the middle of the parking lot. She was a resilient old gal: she never let on that it bothered her that some punk not only keyed her trunk, but decided to get all artistic and write "Satan" while he was at it. One of her brake lights might have flashed its last twinkly light for good, but the other one was resolutely shining on. She was all heart, that Volvo: it might have been strapped in with a black bungee cord, since we couldn't figure out how to reattach that dang clip when we changed the battery, but it kept on ticking.

We now drive a family-mobile, a long stretch of silver Volvo station wagon that accommodates our giant dog, our little baby, and the occasional 4X8 sheet of plywood. It's pure luxury, this car: cupholders as far as the eye can see, leather seats that remember where you last sat, volume controls right there on the steering wheel. I don't drive in this car, I cruise. And I cruise at a rather leisurely pace.

So I bid you farewell, old friend. I hope you are happy with Michael from Oak Park. He pointed out that the tread on your tires was wearing a bit thin, so I know he'll be sensitive to your needs.