Goodbye, Old Friend

Last week the Sentra started running pretty rough -- well, rougher than normal -- so we took a deep breath and took it in to get checked out. Casey intentionally took it in on election day, knowing the news wasn't going to be good and wanting to get all the bad things in his life over with on the same day. The next morning when we all woke up in the brave new world of America's first Hawaiian president (not that I'm saying they're connected or anything) the mechanic called with The News. That's right, he told us it was time to decide whether or not to pull the plug. Take the old girl off life support. And although I didn't previously feel any emotional attachment to that car, suddenly I started feeling sad. No, "sad" is too strong a word. Nostalgic.

I mean, this car has been with me and Casey from the beginning. She's seen a lot of history. Look, there we are!



That was the day we got married. The decorations on the old girl were courtesy of Casey's siblings. They really went to town that day.




She moved across the country with us. Found our first apartment with us. See, here she was buried in the most snow we've seen since we moved here.



When we bought our first (and only) house.



When we brought Andrew home from the hospital. (And when Willa came home too, but we didn't have a picture of that day.)



She faithfully transported Casey nearly 100,000 miles to and from DC, although not always without incident. I remember one time when I hitched a ride with him when I was pregnant with Andrew, and as soon as he dropped me off I puked all over L Street. Then there was the day Casey was driving past Bolling Air Force Base during a torrential downpour. In our neck of the woods, when it rains, it POURS. Streets flood. Roads become impassible. Casey came upon a section of the road that appeared to be flooded, and there was a stalled Mercedes on the right side of the road to testify to the treacherous nature of the road. But, with great faith in his trusty partner, Casey floored it and made it through. (I'll let you decide if that's a testament to the warrior soul of the Sentra or a side to Casey you don't always see.) And on 9/11 Casey and the Sentra sat stranded together on the freeway between the Pentagon and National Airport, watching smoke pour from the Pentagon.

Of course, those hard miles of stop-and-go traffic did take their toll. She liked to throw off her hub caps every time she hit a pot hole -- and if you've ever driven in DC, you know there are one or two pot holes waiting to swallow your car whole. Casey went through 12 replacements in their years together.



Oh, the Sentra. She served us well. And look, she saved a reminder of our beginning together.



See that? On the driver's visor? Let's take a closer look.



It's confetti, from our first day together.




Hel-lo, New Friend.