Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Ode to the Altima

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.