Saying Goodbye To Black Metal: Farewells To A Loving Car

This day came. I’ve saved up my money and am prepared to write the check. Yet my heart is not taking having to say goodbye to this old guard. We’re going to a dealership to buy a new car. My family and I did our research online to ensure that the process is as painless as possible and that I will not mourn too much when the time comes. And yet I’m feeling a pang of sadness.

A few weeks ago, I went to yoga then to the post office to deliver a package. It was pouring rain, so if I cracked the windows open then water would come in and soak all of my papers. The AC had died the Monday before, and in Miami, even with fall winds the heat and humidity will collect in enclosed spaces. So I announced that it had happened, to our 21-year old model.

This car is practically the youngest sibling. My family got it in 1998 for my oldest sister. Or maybe it was within that range; whichever the age, I remember that it became the one that belonged to two of my sisters and then my brother’s. It never died on the road, and it never had a GPS that abandoned us in the dead of the night. That’s more than what I can say for some of our models. Or for some family members with whom we haven’t spoken in ages.

Divya would take the car to drive us to school, summer camp, and outings. We’d sing along to the Animaniacs CD checked out from the library. After my dad died, we would use it to go out for ice cream while the house was being renovated. Someone would put in CDs of The Beatles and Les Miserables. Later I would replace those with Tori Amos albums and audiobooks of whichever books were available at the library.

This car went with me to internships in other cities, and to various comic conventions. I listened to podcasts and an album on loop when going two hours to a friend’s wedding. When that friend later divorced, I drove an hour to their new house. The car has played Junot Diaz before he was outed as a creep, and Norwegian Viking tales.

When we finally sell it, it will be a rite of passage. I drove her on Sunday to make sure the tires didn’t go flat. The interior smelled the same and I rescued an important Sunpass device. Yet I feel lingering sadness. It’s the end of an era.


Goodbye, Spaceship

I must say farewell, faithful spaceship

You gave so many journeys through

I will spend my days mourning for your battered wings

Before I have to upgrade to something new


We had so many adventures together

Going north and south

Even when you needed changes

I never had my doubts


When we shared trips to far-off places

To determine my future in the stars

You kept me going past the crashes

And helped me own all my scars


The world’s become a useless sty

But we could always take the sky

You’re now going to land forever

While I find a new endeavor


But who can replace something like you

That’s ventured to the dark and cold

While heating up and wiping away

The grime that real life always holds


They say that I’ll forget you soon

When I drive a model almost new

But that won’t take away memories of

Parking spots and courtly love


When they bury you alive

I hope your scrap metal grows and thrives

While I go forward I will carry you

In all horizons black and blue


I take my new one for a spin

We navigate space with wanted ease

But I will never forget your creaky brakes

Or torn up fabric on the seats

Nothing about it at all neat



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