There are some things that are with you so long that they seem to become part of who you are. I have had precious few possessions that inspire that sort of loyalty. My Toyota was one. It died yesterday, in a blaze of glory, spewing flames and fumes from the hood of the engine that ran for nearly 400,000 miles.
I Should Have Known Something Was Wrong
She just did not sound like herself. She was making an odd, labored sound as she struggled to get me from work to MM's home. There was an odd, grinding sound. Then, when I tried to turn her off, the engine refused to stop. At first I thought that the starter was jammed on and that it was burning itself out (I still need to check that). I never saw a flame, though MM says that she thought that she saw something. There was a huge amount of fetid smoke; it poured out of a place behind the head of the engine. Black, grimy, and sour: this grimy smoke poured out with the lifeblood of my car.
She had been a faithful vehicle. I was loyal to her as she was to me. I purchased Little Blue one day, almost on a whim. My Mazda 323 had been pushed to well past 300,000 miles. She had had more than could be expected. She began her death throws on the way home from the courthouse when I had gone in for my first divorce, the first hearing. There seemed to be something symbolic about that. We, LA and I, had purchased Garfield (the Mazda's name) when we had just returned to California. I had driven her; originally she was to be my car, then LA's then she returned to me. It almost seemed that she was the period that ended that point of my life. So it is with Little Blue.
Little Blue and the Events of My Life
Little Blue was there when I returned to pastoral ministry. She was there when I married and divorced a second time. She was there when I began my career change. She was there when I met MM. She and I survived a rather severe wreck. I was told that the reason that I did survive was that I was driving a Toyota Corolla. She was a perky car that drove well and never showed her age. She was fun to drive, despite the fact that she was the first automatic that I have owned (I want to return to a manual transmission). For all of the changes that the last ten years have held, Little Blue was there. During her long life I only replaced an alternator, starter points, and a universal joint. The car just kept running and running and running.
Funny, I'll miss her more than I will several people that have come and gone in my life. I think that it was that she was so faithful, so reliable when nothing else in my life was. She came to symbolize a stability that had eluded me and for which I longed. When Little Blue died she did so in front of MM's home, as if to say, "Here is where the first steps of the next part of the journey begin."
Here's to the things that become more than what they were intended to be and are the metaphors for our lives. Here's to you Little Blue. Thanks for being more than just a car. You served me well and went out in a blaze of glory. Damn, is there a better way?
