Posted by: Daisy | March 16, 2009

Car Graveyard

As if the being ill thing wasn’t bad enough, my hubby got into a car accident earlier this week.  Everyone is okay, and no one got seriously hurt.  Two cars were involved in essentially a head-on collision with one car going approx 50km an hour, and the other at 30km an hour.  That would be like hitting a brick wall at 80km/hr.

Luckily for us, it was 100% the other guy’s fault and the police report indicates something about reckless driving.  I really have no idea what happened, nor what the guy was thinking.  He lost consciousness and does not remember the accident so I guess we’ll never know.  There were plenty of witnesses all around who could attest to the fact that guy tried to make a left turn from the right lane.

I ended up picking hubby up from the hospital as a dutiful wife could only do as I counted my blessings and was reminded of how lucky we are to have our health and happiness, even though at the time, I was still sick as a dog, (though finally with the energy to actually drive again).

For the next hours/days following the accident, I fell into a world that I call the “Car Graveyard” – what a very sad, sad place to be.  Our dear ol’ car got hit pretty badly.  The whole front end is not looking so good.  Heck, the engine isn’t sounding so good.  We ended up going to the car, to get our things out.  We have not yet heard what insurance is going to do about it, and the last it was left at is someone needed to take some pictures, and document the damage and estimated costs to repair.  We heard that typically insurance companies will spend about 75% of the value of the car to repair, or else they’ll write it off.  Just doing some simple math in my head told me this was likely a car that would be written off.

I am very well aware that this is a car.  Her name is Sela, the Civic.  We got her in 2001 and she was the most beautiful shiny car I’d ever seen.  We drove her thousands and thousands of kilometres away – travelling from Toronto to Western Canada, crossing just over the border to British Columbia.  She took us through the Rockies.  She sped through Edson, Alberta and an RCMP officer gave Hubby a speeding ticket.  I almost took out my camera to document it, but thought better of it.  She lost her license plate one night in Jasper to likely some young students wanting the thrill of having an Ontario plate in Alberta.

She brought us all the way back through the prairies again, and even picked up some friends in Manitoba for the trip back.  She took us through the crazy driving in the middle of no where between Thunder Bay and Sudbury, including what became iconic for us, the little town of Wawa.  She was like our chauffeur through the fall colours that year, and then came back to being a commuter car with all her reliability and amazing gas mileage.

Sela and I travelled to New Jersey and Pennysylvania too.  We loved the scenic drive.  And of course, she’s gone zipping all over Ontario many times from Ottawa to London and all in between.  She’s gone to Niagara Falls a few times too and crossed the border for some excellent shopping too.

I sat in the driver’s seat during my first trimester, stopping and going, and every once in a while, thinking I just might need to pull over to throw up.  My belly grew bigger, and I learned to drive with my seat pushed further back.  With contractions happening, I eased into the passenger seat as we went to the hospital, and then, a few days later, I trusted her to bring home my little baby boy, only days old from the hospital.

She was either like family, or an old family friend.  She was far more than just a car.

I am not ready to let her go just yet.  How do you say goodbye to a car who’s never done anything but protect you and take care of you, in every way you expected and more?  Do you have memories of your car as I do of mine?  How do you let your car go?

– Daisy

Advertisements

Responses

  1. oh that is so sad … but you’ll always have the memories … and she kept you protected at the end as nobody was hurt, thankfully, xo

    It’ll be a week tomorrow, and I’m still sad. – Daisy

  2. Oh, last year I finally had to sell my most favorite car EVER & I cried & cried & even made sure the new owner knew which gasoline to use, because it was the car’s favorite, and she ran the best with it. I laughed as I cried, but the new owner understood – she said she’d cried when she had to part with HER old car. But there were so many memories, just as you described, and I miss that car even today. She was the best. Absolutely. 🙂

    Exactly. We can not help but love what we love, right? Thanks for the visit, and the comment – makes me feel less strange about loving my car that much. – Daisy

  3. it’s funny how we come to love the strangest of things

    Yes. I know it’s just a car. And I love that car! 🙂 – Daisy

  4. Glad to hear your husband is OK and I know what you mean about cars. You can really get attached to them like they are part of the family. What struck me most about your post though is how much it makes me want to visit Canada.

    Canada is a great place to visit. I’ve done other posts about my travels out west – if you want to read more, search for ‘travel’ and see what you get. One reason we drove out west was that we had travelled to other parts of the world (France, New Zealand) and in our travels, people commented about places we hadn’t been to yet. So, we decided we had to travel our own big backyard of Canada, before venturing out again. We still haven’t done the east coast yet though. I guess another car will have to do that trek! – Daisy

  5. Nice post! Keep it real.I have looked over your blog a few times and I love it.

    I gotta admit – I’m seriously waffling about whether this is spam or not. Strangely, your IP address does show up as having visited… hmm, why do I feel strangely like I’m talking to myself here?!!

  6. This was a touching post. Thank you for helping us come out of the closet and admit our love affairs with our cars. 🙂

    My great car love was a ’95 Neon. It meant a lot to me for a few reasons. First I was a single mom, trying to make ends meet. It was the first time I actually went car shopping alone. Second, I actually qualified to buy a brand new car. Third, my little girl said, “Bring back a purple car!” to which I said in my mind “No way in hell” yet she kept insisting.

    When I bought the car, I selected a beautiful teal color. Almost had it off the lot when I saw a light lavender one. I thought perhaps that would qualify as purple so I bought it and took it home. My first brand new car. I was ecstatic.

    I had so much fun in that car. It was the first car that I could actually trust to go on long trips. My girls and I loved it.

    I then had an illness that had me bedridden for seven months. My friends took me in and let me stay with them. I gave them my child support checks–half to go to them for taking us in, and half to pay my car payments. It wasn’t until six months has passed that I learned that they had never once made my car payment for me.

    I had to clean out my car in preparation for its repossession. I cried and cried because that car meant so much to me. It signified my independence. Its loss signified that I had trusted and failed. It was agonizing.

    If there was only a way to scrapbook our cars.

    Wow Randi – thanks for taking the time to share your story! We do have a love affair with cars sometimes, don’t we? Your story is such a sad one and I can only imagine how difficult that must have been. Yes, I can see how much of what we feel about something is about what it represents to us. I suppose Sela represented independence in a way too, and it also represented the so many memories of great travels and trips. I want to go back to the car graveyard to take some pictures of her, but I’m afraid that I don’t need photos of her broken down as my last photos of her… yet.. I dunno. Me nutty, I know.

    Yes, let’s find a way to scrapbook our cars. Thanks again for sharing Randi. You have no idea how much that means to me. – Daisy

  7. Hi Daisy, it was not a spam .Cheers 🙂

    Well, isn’t that interesting? Glad you came back to clarify. – Daisy

  8. Ahh the reluctance to let go.

    I understand that one. I have made the mistake of holding on too long too.

    I liken it to when I was a teenager going out with my first girlfriend, we were “in love” with each other for quite a while but in the end things went wrong and we fell out. We tried to patch things up and we stayed together for a few more months but it just did not feel right, things had changed between us.

    The same was true for that first car, I had an accident where the car was quite badly damaged, I had the option of cutting and running, but I decided that I should have her repaired. That proved to be a mistake. Things were never the same, I kept up the pretence for a while, but in the end we too had to part company. 😦

    P.S. I am glad your husband is ok, and am amused that his accident was a mere prelude to the lament for the car 🙂

    I was asked today if I honestly, truly felt this way about my car. Ahh, YES, YES I DO. Sigh. Yes, I have what some term an inappropriate attachment to inanimate objects. I will let her go if that’s what the insurance company wishes to do. I don’t think I will ‘hold on’ to her longer. I suppose I’m just feeling sad because I can almost hear the fat lady singing… though not quite yet. – Daisy

  9. What a hard thing for you. 😦 I’m glad your hubby was okay.

    We’ve lost 2 cars to car accidents.

    The first car was our first new car as a married couple. It brought my son home from the hospital. We loved that car. **sigh** And then one rainy night… Well, let’s just say it met its doom.

    Its replacement brought my daughter home from the hospital, took my children to school, and rattled like a tin can, but ran without worry. It was hard to let that one go too when an accident took out the passenger side of the vehicle.

    Your car has more history than my two combined. I can see why it makes you sad.

    Sorry to hear about your two cars. I guess we’ll just make new memories (and therefore get more history) with another one. Sigh. – Daisy

  10. I don’t drive, so owning a car would be somewhat redundant. :p

    However, I think I can understand the very real attachment one would feel towards their car. I had an attachment to a particular pair of jeans that I eventually had to get rid of. I wore them to death, those poor jeans! It was a wrench, because they had a history; I could recall all the places I’d been in those jeans.

    Wow. It’s kinda odd typing that “out loud”. I’m a strange, strange man.

    Ha ha ha! That’s great! And isn’t it nice to get that off your chest? Thanks for sharing – it makes me feel so accepted for my car love affair. – Daisy


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Categories

%d bloggers like this: