Fare Thee Well, Faithful Escort

I've been in an awful mood all weekend, but it took me til this morning to finally make the connection. It wasn't stress, illness, or romance, but a big hunk of metal that brought me down. After a long exhausting week already, Greg's car took a dump on me Thursday night. I got it to the mechanic's and Saturday morning, sat down in his office for the bad news. Luckily Javier has a good bedside manner, because it felt exactly like being in the doctor's office. He gave me the diagnosis and the price(it's A LOT), and I asked, "What will happen if I do nothing?" He said, "Well you definitely can't drive it on the freeway, but if you insist on driving it in town as is, it will experience a slow decline over time until it dies." I probably looked like I was about to start crying, because he continued with, "You don't have to decide right now. It's your dad's car, yes? Maybe time to start thinking about changing to a new car.." He gently smiled and gave me back the keys. 

I drove away (hobbled away) and immediately began rationalizing and denying. I don't need to drive on the freeway! I'm not too old to learn how to ride a bicycle! I'll move to the Avenue! I have a lot of friends with cars! This is totally fine! When I called Sharon, who is often more attuned to my volatile Irish moods than I am, she listened to the explosion first and then very carefully suggested leasing a car, saying "There's a lot of affordable options right now, and that way you can have a couple of.............years.............to get ready to make a decision about Greg's car." I put her off by dramatically exclaiming, "I can't even think about this right now! I'm in a master's program for God's sake!" 

But of course that's what I spent most of the weekend thinking about (and drinking wine from a jelly jar since I obviously wasn't going to be driving anyway). Every time I went downstairs to change the laundry or take the recycling, I'd give the car a baleful look. I was one glass away from literally shaking my fist. Here are all the things I understand- I know, it's just  a car. I know, someone's possessions are not the same as someone. I know, Greg cares more that I'm safe than sentimental. 

And yet.....

This is the car that's been there for me on long drives at night through the hills with the windows down. I've cried and snotted all over the steering wheel more times than I care to admit. Greg's envelope with his headshots and his ratty blue towel are still in the trunk. It was the last car we were in together before he died. I feel better when I see it in the parking lot at school. 

Someone I love asked if I could try to reframe this experience. He said, "Maybe instead of feeling let down and disappointed, you could imagine the car is telling that it's served you well, that it's tired and getting old. What if you focused on how far this car has taken you already? Consider that maybe it was there for you as long as you needed it, and feel gratitude." 

I'm not buying a new car right now, I just ain't. I'm probably not coughing up [amount redacted] either. As usual, Sharon has the wisest solution and I was too bullheaded to admit it up front. Greg's car and I have a lot of history, but this weekend was probably the beginning of the most gentle letting go of which I'm capable. Time to say goodbye.....if slowly. 

By the way, can I get a ride to school tomorrow?