I realize I have
related part of this before, but here is the rest of the story.
Four years
ago I had gone out to do some Christmas shopping. I was quite proud of myself for not having to
ask for any help with Amy’s gifts: I chose what to get, where to get them, and
even thought of a way she wouldn’t notice in our checking account when and
where the money had been spent. I also
picked up a few items for the kids as well.
In fact, I braved a mall (blech!) the during the Christmas rush. I believe it was even a Friday night when I
went straight from school to stare down cranky old ladies and hold my breath as
I weaved through department stores—perfume death traps are quite abundant
during the holidays.
I was on my
way home, trying to be careful due to the icy roads. The traffic made it slow going, or at least I
thought it was the traffic. That is, until I noticed that as I traveled south
the roads became clearer, but my ’96 Hyundai Accent, Buddy, wouldn’t go any
faster. I lost acceleration going up the
on-ramp. And suddenly I couldn’t do more
than 40 mph on a clear freeway. Cars,
trucks, and the occasional motorcycle began passing me like Buddy had stuck his
tongue to the flagpole and couldn’t move on.
I didn’t want to break down on the freeway, so I got off on the Benjamin
exit to take the back farm roads into Payson.
Halfway
between the exit and home, Buddy crawled to a halt, exhausted, and like a lame
horse, refused to get up and go.
Fortunately for him, I didn’t have my shotgun, or that would have been
the end right there between the snowy fields.
Luckily, I was able to start him using an old trick I learned from
nursing Fredrick, my old ’82 Buick Skyhawk.
(That’s a story for another time, though).
Buddy and I
crept home plodding along at less than 10 mph, finally to arrive in the
driveway. The next day, I rolled him
back down into the road for the tow truck to haul him away to the garage. Sadly, I sold him to the mechanic for
$200. It almost felt like 30 pieces of
silver.
Some people
mourn the loss of a dog or some other pet.
Buddy was better than any golden lab or pocket Chihuahua. Christened atop a mountainside with a bottle
of IBC root beer, he became a sturdy companion, a trusted friend. Even after I purchased Artoo, my newer
Hyundai Elantra, I walked around in a stupor because my Buddy was gone.
Although I
saw him around two or three times after the mechanic salvaged him (and gave him
to his little sister), it was never the same.
Sniff.
I’m
reposting the eulogy I wrote for my beloved car:
Bad Boy Blue a.k.a. Buddy (Feb 1998-Dec 2009)
Across the country once and back,
Three sets of tires, three windshields cracked,
Carting scouts and fording rivers,
Enduring smells that give most shivers—
Only once a dropped transmission,
Faded paint, a faulty light, a visor missin’
Spills and splats and marshmallow stuff,
I’m sorry, Buddy, you were treated so rough(ly)
And even though your defroster never worked,
You eventually always got me from and to work,
To class, to meetings, to meet my wife (rrrr)
Buddy, you’ve been a major part of life
These past twelve years, and so, adieu,
Farewell, my friend, my Bad Boy Blue.
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