Steve is my little red Honda civic (big cousin max named him when he was 3 after blues clues). I bought him in DC (oddly with the help of Jeff who was only a fiend then) right after graduation, he came with me to NYC and now he’s been our trusty family/second car for years.
He’s been with me through thick and thin. Up and down the east coast a bazillion times, carried girlfriends and boyfriends to all kinds of adventures, been back and forth from NYC to Boston while Jeff and I were dating, across the country twice after we got married. We drove to the birth center while in labor four times in that bumpy car (and I felt every bump). He has brought home two newborns, so tiny that they’re almost lost in the back seat. I’ve bumped toddler’s heads on those door jams and accidentally shut a few little fingers in those windows. He’s been in all kinds of fender benders, in all sorts of fix it shops, I’ve (by myself) changed the battery and tired quite a few times. He’s been presumed stolen several times on the streets of NYC but every time turned up in a tow yard instead. He’s gotten a lot of parking tickets. We’ve lent him out to various neighbors and friends. And through it all he’s just kept running and running.
We figure that if we were paying a car payment on this guy (which we never did, my dad helped me buy him flat out in cash) it would come to about $15 a month.
But that wouldn’t count the exorbitant amount of money we threw into him at the end to try to keep him going…..but I’m trying to let that part go.
Short story, he died. Oil light came on, engine started to sound like a barrel of rattling bolts, smoke started coming out of the back. Despite all our best efforts, all the advice from Grandpa Ron, all the hope -and faith and prayers of our dear neighbor Joyce who used the car regularly he just died. There was just nothing we could do. A tow truck came, gave us three crisp $100 bills and took him away.
But, before he went the kids and I took “the red car” out on a little last joy ride. And boy, was it joyful. The kids all took turns really driving that car (don’t’ worry, we were in a big empty parking lot and I was sitting right next to them with my foot ready to brake at any sign of panic or inability). They were very cautious and grown up about the whole thing and thrilled out of their minds.
If I were my awesome sister in law Aja, and if it weren’t almost midnight I might write a eulogy for poor faithful trusty old Steve like she did for her chicken. But that’s not in the cards for me.
Man, though, I’m gonna miss that car.