You deserved a name, even before the crash, for years of good service, relatively little trouble, and surviving a few other run-ins.
But I never did think of one for you. Maybe it's because unlike my computers, you never gave the impression of thinking and acting on your own.
Maybe it's because our interactions were direct and physical and intimate. You were more of an extension of my body than a computer is. I could park you so well in tight places, or make tight turns, and (almost always) avoid danger and accidents, because I could feel exactly how big you were. I knew your responses almost as well as my own body's.
And when the moment came, you performed as designed, protecting my life at your own expense.
We drove far together, over 140,000 miles in over 13 years, includuing the 3,144-mile road trip across the nation and continent from Boston to Seattle, to the new home and life I love dearly. You weren't my first car, you weren't as sexy and fun to drive as the Nissan Pulsar I had before you, but you were a damn fine and reliable car, and I'm sad to see you go. Thank you.
Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.