We said goodbye to our Toyota 4Runner this week. My husband was in a car accident and thankfully he’s fine, but the air bags deployed and the front bumper was destroyed, which made a car that old, with that many miles not worthy of saving.
I know it’s ridiculous to feel emotional about a car, but I do. We brought Future Husband home in that car. I remember it vividly: it was about 9 o’clock at night and super cold. I sat in the back with the baby and warned my husband to go slow. I was so tired, anxious about taking a jaundiced baby home. I was wearing the same thing on the way home that I wore on the way to the hospital.
We had plans to give Future President this car when he turned 16. “Where’s Daddy’s car?” the baby now asks whenever we pull into the driveway at home. “It’s broken. It’s gone. It’s getting smashed.”
The car dealership let us keep the car overnight when we were debating whether to buy it. So we drove up one of the canyons out of Salt Lake City to see how it did climbing a mountain. It was powerful, so much more powerful than the Ford Explorer we had used to move across country, a car that literally died five miles from our final destination. So we bought the powerful SUV, with dreams of someday pulling a water ski boat behind us, dreams of camping trips and packing it full with kids’ gear like bikes and skis.
My husband and I drove to D.C. in a car packed to the ceiling with our meager belongings as we set out for law school and work on the Hill; we drove back across country three years later to Seattle for more school; a year later, we drove to Salt Lake City for a new job; and three years later, we packed up a giant U-Haul and the 4Runner to go “home” to the Pacific Northwest. Here’s to more adventures in a car that gets better gas mileage than that red beast.