I sold “Das Boot” two days ago. It was a car I bought from my Granny’s estate after she died. It belonged to her and she drove it regularly to go play cards and bingo (I even found an ink dobber under the seat once). “Das Boot” was an ’87 Ford Crown Victoria with a 5.0 liter V8 302. For all you non-car folks (and I number myself among you) this means it hauled balls. Large and in charge, “Das Boot” was more of a big-boned gal than a slim sporty thing. She moved like a freight train and was quick to respond when you gave her gas. She could jump up to highway speeds in no time flat, running like a thoroughbred. I used to loved peeling out in her and feeling our combined mass float along the highway at night. She had a bench seat of blood red velour and you could stretch out on it with your legs kicked out.
On hot days you could climb into the front seat and breathe in the remnants of my grandmother’s perfume haunting the car.
After a while, DB started causing more mechanical troubles than I wanted to deal with. Maybe that’s just an excuse for a love affair that ended. Instead of seeing what had drawn me to her in the first place, I started to see only how she held me back. She was rough and uncivilized, and I felt like I had to explain why I was with her. Ugly, gas-hungry, leaking oil, tempermental, and…old.
I moved on to another car but let DB linger on the street in front of my house not knowing exactly how to let her go. This week I cleaned her out and made her up. Various suitors came to look at her, poking and peering. I watched through the blinds when the new owner drove her away and out of my life forever.
*sigh* That’s such a sad story!
I wish Eric and I had been able to get his grandma’s old car. (Ford Taurus) We loved it and had driven it to Vegas and San Francisco in the past.
Instead one of his cousins got it and totaled it like a week later. Now THAT’s sad.
I think it’s more bittersweet than sad