Another car in heaven

I believe that one reason I give names and personalities to inanimate objects is because it makes it easier for me to justify my attachment to them.

I care about things like my jacket, shoes, and bookends because I create memories with/because of them, and few items have created more memories for me than my car. In addition to enabling events, my car became a part of me -because it helped myself and others define who I am. My 1994 Honda Accord represented who I thought I was. The Honda wasn’t flashy, but it always started and ran well. It wasn’t plush, but comfortable and worry free.

Despite my admiration for this car, I never named it. I want to write an obituary for this car. I want to write about how much it meant to me and how much it hurt to have it stolen (twice!). But that’s not true or fair. I shouldn’t pretend affection for something that I clearly didn’t have affection for just because it’s gone now.

That car was the location for many strong emotions, but they were my emotions, devoid of the car. I’ve hit the steering wheel with so much anger that I though the car might crumble underneath my fist. I felt like the car might lift off the ground when the girl sitting next to me put her hand on top of mine while shifting into fifth gear. And I felt like the car might turn into gold as I felt so much pride for my journey across the country (twice). But it did none of these things. This car was a vessel for some of my most powerful emotions, but none of them were directed towards the car.

I did care about this car. I even loved some of its quirks. But it's gone now. And it's too late to give it it's long over due clean and wax, and it will never have a name. I just hope I don't treat anyone with the same disrespect -especially someone who gave me as much as this car had.