It feels strange to write about a car.
I donated my car on Wednesday to the Humane World for Animals. We have a newer car, all electric and my sweet girl had almost 300,000 miles on her. She was getting tired, was gonna need all her original hoses and boots and seals replaced.
She was my ride or die for 21 years! I picked her out originally because I wanted a four door car that would be easier to put in and take out a car seat, had enough room for my father to sit comfortably in the back and had better safety features...airbags! Before her I had a 1985 Toyota Corolla that I purchased from my great aunt, that only made right turns, and when I started driving 100miles round trip to and from work, my mechanic suggested I get a safer car and a cell phone.
I picked out my gal, no bells or whistles, just super standard features with airbags. The upgrades from the 1985 car was that this new one had air conditioning, airbags and a CD player! It still had roll down windows (in case I drove off a bridge, I could still escape my car) and buttons and knobs that required turning to find radio stations and such. She had 3 miles on her when we drove off the lot and I loved that car. When stuff got serious, not long after getting her, she was my safe space to rage scream, cry and yell at the world. No one was the wiser, she kept my secrets. We went on the occasional road trip, but I babied her. Drove my goddaughters to and from school, carried my niblings to and from overnights. Even transported them along with the dogs while we waited for word about the youngest being born. She carried me to and from infusions and errands and gardens.
Gladly hauling bags of compost in her trunk.
She ferried us and the cats to safety when the fires had us evacuating to safer locations. She made it through floods and storms and all the while required very little. She was " middle grey", a color I chose as a nod to my photographic love. She was my first brand new car, I picked her out, financed her and she in many way equated freedom for me. Freedom of movement, freedom for choice...I could go anywhere...she was mine!
So when we got the newest used car, it was time to say goodbye. I cleaned out my car that night, emptying it of all the little things she had collected over the years, Acorns and CDs and love notes and keys and coins. I ripped off the Band-Aid in many ways.... I was emotional ! I sat on the kitchen floor and cried. I turned ideas around in my head. I asked my brother if his kids would want her? " she would be the perfect car to learn to drive in " I loved the idea that an Aunt would pass on another car in the family...but my niblings said no, they did not have any interest in learning how to drive!
I asked people at my yoga studio that had kiddos, no one needed a car.
This broke my heart, but also made it possible to think beyond the present and instead, look to donation.
The Barren was very supportive, he too had a mix of feelings. He didn't want me to feel forced to make a choice, but also knew I would have all the same options with this newer car.
When I decided who was going to take her on her next path, I drove her to the garden, talking to her along the way, thanking her for all her support over the years. I picked flowers for her dashboard and left them there to dry.
The day before the tow truck came, I burned sage inside the car. Telling her that I release her from all that she helped me carry over the years. All the sorrow and pain that she allowed me to fill her with. All the times I screamed and cried and banged my hands into the steering wheel. I released her of all her obligations and thanked her for taking to me to places that also supported my joy and excitement.
She was cleared of it all, she was free.
I tucked a little Milagros into a secret place to carry her to her next happy.
The following day, I met the tow truck and watched her drive away.
I thought it would hurt more...maybe it will down the line but for now I am hopeful she will be auctioned off and make someone else happy.
Has anyone read Klara and the sun
A friend mentioned that our story was similar, and I kinda agree.
Now I feel different, as though I also let some of that sorrow and heaviness go too.
The goodbye was proof of growing pains and that is why I cried so much.
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