Shirley, Baby, We Had Us Some Times!

It was kind of bittersweet getting my new car. Granted, the old one didn't basically didn't run, and was capable of blowing up at any given second, but the fact of the matter is, we had some history.

My 1992, Grey Honda Civic, Shirley for those who knew her, or Shirley Feronda Lafonda Chewbacca the Honda if we are going to get technical, was my very first car. I didn't buy her or anything, I just kind of inherited her. It used to be my grandmothers, which was evident from the "CAT" sticker in the window, and the broken sideview mirror that happened when she backed out of the garage wrong. It was the car I drove all through high school, all through university, and for a large portion of my life after all schooling was said and done.

Shirley was always dependable...up until her last days. She helped us escape from the Junkman, she drove us back and forth past an old teachers house, who we were NOT stocking. She was there during many wrong turns which resulted in very alternative ways of getting places. She made it through a road trip that consisted of driving all the way to Boston, New York City, then back. She drove me back and forth from London more times than I want to count. Many air fresheners, hood ornaments, and general decorations have graced her dashboard and rearview mirror.

Her look changed over the years...she went from being sleek and pretty, to rusting and falling apart, with rusted parts being covered by a very clever paint job by my dad. Her bumper was falling off, but it was nothing a little crazy glue and duct tape couldn't fix. She started to grunt and moan like an elderly person every time you climbed in and out of her. Driving her on the highway became a, "I'm taking my life in my hands" kind of experience. Will she break down, will she not? It all became part of the thrill. Towards the end of her days, she developed a hole in her gas tank, which was an unfortunate development, because everywhere we went, we were surrounded by the lovely aroma of gas station. Even my clothes became permeated. I could smell it everywhere. Nonetheless.

Shirley drove me away when I needed to escape, and got me home when that was all I really wanted. She provided my friends and I, especially in high school, a freedom that might not have been possible otherwise. Up until she abandoned me at the humane society a month ago, she was a great friend. Even then, I couldn't really be annoyed, she was old, she was tired, and I think she just wanted to chill out for a while.

So now, Shirley has been replaced, and she has moved on to a new stage in her life. Who knows what that will be. Bought by a mechanic and fixed up like new? Drag racing? Disassembled for her various still good parts? Time shall tell. She's moved on and so have I.

What is really left to say? Shirley, baby, we sure had us some times! Thanks old girl.