RIP Car (For Real)

My Fucking Father is really pissing me off right now, but I'll blog post his bitch ass tomorrow.  But for now, I really need to talk about my old car.

OK, I finally got around to arranging the tow.  They are coming to take my first love away today/Thursday.

I have done my ritual farewell to it three times now, the last being last/Wednesday evening.  I sat on all four seats (passenger-side rear, driver-side rear, passenger-side front, driver-side front), did five deep, meditating breaths, and tried to calm my mind for a minute while on each seat.  I also tried to touch every part of the car -- the shades, the leather of the seats, the back of the seats, the ashtrays (I don't think I ever used the car lighter once), the vents, the radio, the turn signal, the glove compartment, the side compartment, the cup holders, the gas cap -- everything.  I opened up the hood and the trunk.  And I made sure everything that should be taken out is.  I left the owner's manual and the tire change equipment and the license plates.  And I found a dime in the glove compartment.

The car is not as tall as I thought, nor is it as tall as my current car.  It is a sedan, but I'm still surprised I have to worry about banging my head against the underside of the car.  But it is roomy; I never had any problem with leg room, either when driving or, rarely, the times I was riding shotgun or in the back.

I wanted to note all this, the touching and the smelling and the seeing and the memories that flood back (once again they're all bad even though I know I had many, many good years of driving the car with no problems, I just can't recall them) one last time before it's taken away.  I hope I've said goodbye properly.