All the king's horses, and all the kings men, aren't going to pull this Humpty Dumpty back together again.
It'll be sad when it eventually gets hauled to the wrecker. I mean this car is a veteran. It went through our neighbors and their son Mark. Then Mark left on his mission, and my dad bought it to be passed from Steph to Corry to Jake to Teresa to me. It has been one of those classic, undependable teenage cars. Really, if you think about all of the parts we've replaced on it, it's basically brand new.
Not to get all sentimental about a hunk of metal, but so much of my teenage life was lived in that car. The trunk was always filled with lacrosse stuff and goalie gear. The backseat was like a second clothes closet. On the rear-view mirror I put up two solid promises that came out of fortune cookies. "You will soon achieve perfection," and "You will reach the highest level of intelligence." I'm gonna miss looking up at those before changing lanes.
The funniest thing is that much of my meager progress in high school came from a habit of praying before I turned the ignition. The thing is, I am a terrible driver and am not afraid to admit it. When I first got the car keys I thought I would be the death of some poor pedestrian, so I started praying before pulling out. That one habit made all the difference in high school.
Here is my car after Melissa got to it on my 18th birthday.
Teenage cars, like childhood friends, are hard to let go of.
