Watching the new owner drive away from my house in my Altima was a bittersweet moment. We’d been through much together during the past four and a half years, and not unlike the final goodbyes to someone special, I felt my throat close a little as I forced myself to stay strong.
The following poem sums up my memories, and is dedicated to my four-wheeled friend that I’ve always considered to be so much more than a car.
School bus, chariot, taxi cab, bassinette,
Hotel room for a weekend I’d rather forget,
Confessional, library, waiting room, pub,
Not for the driver - I’d wait ‘till the club,
Dance hall, bordello, ambulance, hearse,
To the friends of Trixie - I still have her purse,
Flop house, drug store, paddy wagon, tomb,
That drag race with Earl that ended too soon,
We’ve torn up some bad roads; we’ve cruised down some good,
With nary a whimper from under your hood,
And now my dear friend as I say my goodbye,
With a lump in my throat and a tear in my eye,
I hope your new owner can treat you as well,
And build wonderful memories someday he too can tell.
