Lindsay L. O'Connor

Today I had to go say my final good-byes to my dear Honda, which was totaled a few weeks ago. After owning a fairly unreliable car prior to the Honda and having a somewhat significant commute to work, I had an extreme appreciation for my reliable, cute little Civic. It marked the beginning of a new stage of my life, as I bought it at the beginning of my first year of teaching and shortly after I got engaged.

It was also at a time when I was still adjusting to having the freedom and responsibility of making big life decisions on my own: deciding to get married (this was an easy one, by the way ;0), picking out an apartment when I lived completely on my own for the first time, deciding where to work, and deciding that I could, responsibly, buy the exact car that I wanted. This was pretty monumental, I guess because of my cautious personality. I remember sitting at the Honda dealership, getting ready to sign the paperwork that would make the car mine. My dad was there, at my request, to give his 2 cents. The guy at the desk asked if Dad would be co-signing and Dad threw up his hands, smiled, and said, “Nope, it’s all her.” It was also the first car that I, with the help of my dashing husband, paid off, which gave me an even stronger sense of ownership.

Ownership. Things. Stuff. Materialism. I know, I know, it’s just a car and I need to get over it (which gets a little easier with the purchase of a fabulous new car,incidentally). And I will. I am, I promise. However, I couldn’t help but feel like I was going to a car-hospital when I went to get my belongings out of my car at the collision repair place. We’re talking critical care unit. The guy helping me out warned me that he had taken off the front and back bumpers and directed me to wind around and pull in through a gate, into the automotive critical care unit. “Critical care unit” is my own name for it, because that’s basically what it was–a resting place for cars that were either totaled or in serious need of some serious care. His comment reminded me of when you go to visit a loved one in the hospital and another family member tries to prepare you for the dire condition in which you will find your loved one. Please understand me when I say that I am not at all implying that the destruction of my car is anything compared to the tragedy of a sick loved one; the way the car guy said it just begged the comparison.

I spent a little time collecting my belongings and said a silent good-bye before leaving my car for the last time. So very thankful to be safe and that the other driver’s insurance is paying us for the value of the car, but I am also a little sad to lose the car to which I had become so attached. Would you believe they are even taking the valet key? Nothing left now but fond memories of times gone by in my little grey Honda.