It was bound to happen sooner or later; I was just hoping for later. I know man, yeah, all good things come to an end and twilight is golden and the last of the summer wine and all the blabbity you want to stick in there, but I've been absolutely dreading this moment.
My car has finally died.
So if you'll indulge me, I'd like to take a moment to honor the life of the charcoal gray Honda Accord LX known as Pixie 21.
My little car was the best sidekick a SuperHero could ever have...she was loyal, dependable, and always willing to overlook said SuperHero's flaws. She stayed by my side as I pursued Great Big Girl's mission of justice, acting as the four-wheeled equivalent of Clark Kent's phone booth--always there for a quick change. Ever ready to go the distance in the name of Art, she spent her last trip in the service of The Sacred Heart Archive, shuttling me and Trudie (with an "ie") from place to place in Sturtyvant, Wisconsin, in search of a critical Performance Art Costume. Only after the costume was secured did she rattle her last few breaths along Route 20, and even after her timing belt had snapped, she coasted just long enough for me to pull off the highway and into a Dairy Queen parking lot, just long enough to see me to safety one last time.
If you will, let us take a moment to reflect: who among us has not had a memorable moment in that car? Who has not heard stories of her greatness? Some of us were her lifelong friends, while others of us had only the briefest of encounters, but she touched all of our lives in some way. She has delivered us, bouncy and aglow with anticipation, to our concert destinations. She has guided us through long and rambling road trips. She has witnessed our whispered confessions, the likes of which can only be spoken inside a car, and she has kept our secrets like a priest. She has seen our make-outs, make-ups, and break-ups. She has protected us while we slept. Never one to leave a friend behind, she has carried us home from evenings of merriment, sometimes up to nine at a time. And of course, she has revealed to most of us the glorious treasure of the backseat...for most of us, while perched atop a pile of clothes and papers, or perhaps in a moment of idle curiosity, have reached down toward the seat, only to extract a tiara, or an avalanche shovel, or a Barbie Doll leg, or a harmonica, a hand-drawn map or a crumpled sheaf of poems. She was a source of constant comfort and continual wonder, a veritable jewel in a sea of automotive pebbles.
So please, let us all raise our Soft Serves--vanilla, chocolate, or twists; cherry or butterscotch dipped; with sprinkles or without--and toast to Pixie 21: my constant companion over the past 13 years, and the best friend a girl could ever have. Rest in Peace, the Sweetest of the Sweet, Sweet Babies.
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