Breakfast at Tiffany's

The odometer reads 238,149 miles on our little green Saturn SL2.  We were bright eyed, hopeful youngsters fifteen years ago when we signed on to our first major purchase together.  I had serious doubts about whether our relationship would last long enough to get the car paid off, but we took the plunge anyway.  The relationship has lasted longer than the payments of the car, and quite frankly, longer than the South San Francisco Saturn dealership and the entire Saturn company for that matter.

Mak picked up her car the very same evening.  New jobs, a new car, and a chance to see the world for the price of gas (at that time, a reasonable bargain).  We snapped a couple of polaroids to commemorate the moment, the Saturn sales people came out and hip-hip hoorayed us, "Breakfast at Tiffany's" (#26 on the pop charts and my personal Karaoke Favorite) was blaring from the radio, and we were off with our new car...is there anything better than new car smell, besides Yankee Candle "Clean Cotton" of course...

Alas, now the car sits dead in the driveway cleaned out of the pens, the polaroids in the glove compartment, and the funnel in the trunk.  A piston rod has punctured through the engine block, totaling the car once and for all.  We are looking for a a final resting place for our auto, along with the many memories tucked between the seats with the spare change and stale Cheetos.

This signals an end, a final nail in our youthful pursuits.  I remember, we drove the car across country filled with books, clothes, and our cantankerous dog, Keiko, to start the North Carolina chapter of our life story.  It is unforgivable to go through Nashville without a tour of the splendor that is Graceland.  On a summer day of our sojourn, Nashville was experiencing a mild, almost temperate climate, and we decided to leave our dog Crystal in the car in the shade of a moving van with the window cracked with a bowl of water.   We toured the mansion in all of its Elvis Gloria, but upon returning to the car midday, the clouds were gone, the van had moved, and the heat was intense.  Our poor parched dog scratched at the window to be released from the inferno.  Yes, we were those people that PETA despises and you read about in the newspapers with Headlines like, "Cruel, Heartless Owners Leave Dog to Suffer."  Luckily, we arrived back at the car in time to prevent a major tragedy, but those scratches remain on the window to this day, reminding us of our stupidity and providing a daily dose of guilt.

The old green girl has also been privy to conversations late at night in the garage and while driving around our Southern states, figuring out how we can navigate the treacherous waters of a relationship.  The Saturn served us during Hurricane Katrina, during multiple ice storms and through the torrential summer rain capable in North Carolina.    She went out the way I want to go, quick, knowing she had fulfilled her purpose.  She will be missed.