I traded in my car today. We've had a rough couple of months, the CD player stopped working, the transmission was on its last legs, the power steering was creaking, the fan vents barely blew the A/C, Estelle was getting old and it was time to let her go, but not without a bit of remorse and nostalgia. As I went through the glove compartment, I was struck by all the maps, love notes, photos, and random ephemera I forgot I'd tossed inside. The letters went back almost 8 years, when I first got the car and had been dating Fritz-ky. I wonder what happened to him? We lost touch ages ago, when he decided to escape Hollywood and go back to school as a playwright. I now live a few blocks from his old apartment, and wonder if the current tenants love the space as much as he did. It was a lovely studio/one bedroom with hard wood floors, bare brick walls, and a bay window, that felt like something straight out of New York. I suppose it's strange that I remember his place more clearly than his face, but isn't that how it's supposed to be with old loves? Years go by and you remember the good and the great, but never the bad?
I guess, that is how it will be with Estelle, the first car I purchased all by myself. Like all great relationships, the beginning was blissful, the middle comfortable, and the end sad and at times rocky. We traveled almost 100,000 miles together, most of which were solo road trips, just me, her, and the open road. It's hard to find a great travel buddy and she did well keeping up with my crazy notions. For that, she will be missed. Rest in peace, dear friend, RIP.
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