At 5:30 p.m., eastern standard time, Holly the Honda ceased to be a member of our family. It was a bittersweet moment as I cleaned out all of my junk, knowing that I would never smell the moldy interior of that worn down car ever again. We put the car in the paper yesterday, thinking it would take a miracle to sell. Today, Ben got dozens of calls on it and by 5:30 p.m., she was out of our lives.
I don't know why I feel sad about it; it is an inanimate object. We went through a lot together, though. She moved me from my dorm, to Ben's and my first house together, and to our current residence. She hit countless curbs as I tried to park her on the streets of Jackson when I worked at Marcoux Allen. She endured dusty, pot-hole roads at Somerset. She carried me safely to Hillsdale for the last couple months. Sure she was ugly as sin and never had a properly working air conditioning system. Yes, she made a clicking sound every time she turned left. And yes, she smelled like death b/c her owner littered her interior with water bottles that eventually broke and leaked all over the carpet, but she bore it like no other car could have bore it.
I will miss you, Holly. Godspeed to you and your new owners.