How odd that, as spring breaks upon us, I am experiencing a slow, yet progressive bereavement. An old friend, with me since September 2001, is now dying, and will no longer be. I could opt for extremely expensive transplant surgery, but it would be only a respite of a few years. It is time to face the ultimate truth, and let her go.
The heart, the gas-guzzling 8-cylinder engine of my infamous Dodge Durango, is about to give up the ghost. Too many miles. Too many off road climbs. Far too many "let's see if we can make this trail" experiences. (And we always did.) But the other side of the coin reads: So many memories, and road trips, and people carried to volleyball and basketball and softball. Journeys to the Cape. Dogs to the beach. Breaking down (snapped suspension-bars) in Melville. Towing people out of their snow-covered driveways, and being the only person on Main Street, Bridgehampton, after the Presidents' Day snow storm of 2003, and Starbucks first customer that deep (22 inches) snow morning!
The truck has recently been turning heads on Main Street for all the wrong reasons. People are simply curious to know where the damn noise is coming from! So it's time to go.
In a day or two I will say goodbye to my old and noisy truck, and drive away in a new Toyota Highlander. Quiet, comfortable, and sophisticated - qualities which have escaped me of late. I must get used to them, or they to my driving. I will dearly miss my old friend. May she rust in peace.
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