I never understood guy’s obsession with cars... until I had one. From the time I saw her lustrous moss-green beauty, I’ve wanted to spend my life around her.
Laugh and mock me all you want but this is my requiem for my old car.
Like any silly moron who treats his car as his best buddy, I gave her a name and changed it every time she undergoes an “overhaul.” I first called her Poknat, a reference to soap opera crush back then. But then she became true to her name and started attracting holes so I changed her name to Margarita. Then she met another misfortune last Christmas and needed another makeover. She was last called Bash. From a movie that struck a deep chord.
I’ve had her for three years and in that brief span of time, she had shared miles and miles of memories with me, both good and bad. The long and winding road. Defining moments I want to preserve on my mind. Like those time out with my family. Or time alone where I want to be with my lonesome self and sing my heart out to smithereens with the sad songs churning from its MP3 player. And of course, those dark, forgettable moments that I had retired to a drawer called “painful life experiences” and “lessons learned.”
I remember the first time I brought her home and the friend who helped me with her. I lost contact (again) with that friend since then.
I remember driving her at a snail’s pace, Basil Valdez’ melancholic voice providing the apt background, as we brought my father to his final resting place.
And who can forget my first accident during those highly-strung SAP times; a nerve-racking accident that damaged her front fender and gave birth to my panicky fear at the sight of an approaching ambulance.
I know my regular passengers will miss the smell of it. A smell, which they say, has become my trademark (I take it as a compliment). I remember when I changed car perfume and people noticed it so I returned to the signature smell.
She never let me down. She conked out on me on only three instances and she made sure I was not compromised. The first time I was at my apartment and she needed her battery changed. Second time, I just delivered the keys to our boss’ house and I had a friend tailgating me. Battery problem again. She was safe there so I left her and friend brought me home. The third and the last time, I was at a friend’s house and she needed a maintenance check at the casa. She never gave up on me while I was on the road or in a treacherous situation (one of my worst fears...like stalling while enroute to a BR). Like family, she made sure I was ok before she succumbed to what was bothering her.
Last Saturday, as I took her to our office to turn her over and get the new one, I gave her a heartfelt thank-you speech. Of how she has been a big part of my last three years and how I will treasure that forever. Of how she has been very good to me and that I hate leaving her. That this is a Good bye.
The new car is a lot nicer in many ways. I instantly appreciated it. But we have yet to have those revered memories that render my old car priceless. I call the new car Ash because of her color, and somehow as a salute and tribute to Bash. That though I have replaced her, a part of her will always be with me.
Bash will just be around and I know I will see her often. I know I will honk happily in greeting, not for the new owner but for her. And I will smile at the joy of seeing an old and true friend.
Sorry, I really got carried away. I know it’s just a car. But...
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