This CarJune 12, 2018
It’s weird what we choose to hold close to us.
I was in Hershey Park, PA when my mom called me that I was getting a car.
At that point, I really didn’t think I was getting one but I got lucky.
My mom and I weren’t at the best point in our relationship but she still went through extraordinary lengths to get me this car as a single mom to a really bratty teenager.
I remember how it smelled and how the steering wheel felt against my palms.
At the car dealership, I blacked out everything the dude was telling me about the features. I just couldn’t wait to drive it home.
It was 2008 and I was going to be a senior in high school.
I never thought I’d have it this long.
I found out the first college I got into while I was waiting at the Chick Fil-a drive through in this car.
I drove to and from every play practice, viola practice and acting class in this car.
I drove my friends in this car: from school, to home, to parties, to nights driving around our hometown with nothing to do but listen to emo music and confide in one another.
The chocolate from Gina’s ice-cream is still on the roof.
Ariel taught me how to harmonize in this car.
The smoothie Keesha accidentally spilt during our road trip to Cali almost 10 years later lays a few spots away.
I cried in this car more times than I can count.
I threatened to run away in this car.
Road trips, McDonald’s, Drake, airports, Kid Cudi, tears and repeat.
This car has seen me at my lowest and at my highest.
It knows my voice, my true voice, the one I only use in the privacy of my cocoon.
I never though I’d cry over a few tons of metal the way I’ve cried saying goodbye to this car but this car deserves a fucking shot for putting up with me all these years with windows down and music that would eventually blow out her speakers.
It was not easy saying goodbye to this car but it was right.
Cheers to Baby Jetta and all she symbolizes.
I hope your junk ass gets sold for parts that end up in some 16 year old girl’s first car.