This weekend I’m picking up a new (to me) car. And though I’m excited for heated seats and power locks, I’m sad to be leaving my (somewhat) trusty/rusty sidekick. Stella and I have been together since Remembrance Day, 2000. My longest chosen relationship, really. I buy her oil and gas and brakes, and she safely takes me to Grande Prairie and back, and to Grande Prairie and back, and to Calgary and back, and to Grande Prairie and back. Yes, we know Highway 43 exceedingly well.
I know that her driver’s lock is broken from the robbery in the Zellers parking lot on my way to see Karissa’s new baby. I know the recline lever is missing from my seat because Dad wanted to ‘check out the new car’. I know the rough groove my thumb has left on the bottom of the steering wheel from 9 years of roadtrips.
Saturday will be the beginning of a new era – an as-of-yet nameless responsible 4-door collection of metal and grease. And goodbye to my spunky little red 2-door friend.
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