I received a call late last night from the RCMP telling me our car had been found. Huh? It was missing? It sure was. They had found it abandoned at the end of someones (long) driveway. It's lights still on.
Izzie giving the car some loveIt is odd that this happened. We were getting ready to donate our car to charity or possibly sell it online in an effort to go "car free." I had my entire "Goodbye Car" post and pictures mapped out in my head. I was going to lay wreaths upon it's hood and hire nymphs to dance gaily around it. Fine, I wasn't going to do that but I was going to give it a proper goodbye. Thank it for being there when we brought Izzie home from the hospital, for lugging my butt all around the city and carrying all the crap I bought, and for taking us on all the trips to see the grandparents. And for being half mine through marriage even though I never thought of it as a step-car.
I'm not angry at the hooligans who stole it. I know that they don't think these things through. They don't think about the people who drove the car, how they will get home, what they will do without a car. They think about themselves. Because maybe they don't have anyone who does. All I gotta say is thank god we took the car seat out for the weekend!
Now we don't know if we'll ever even see the car again. It's sitting in East St. Paul, being fingerprinted and checked over. With it's poor ignition hurting because it was started with a screwdriver, it's steering column hanging broken, it's body defiled. (Yes, I feel bad for the car. I've always projected feelings onto inanimate objects. Like the lamp at my old house that was rarely used. I would turn it on so it felt it had a purpose. I'm a spaz, but at least I know it. )
Well, goodbye car. I didn't name you, but you were a good car. I will miss you.
I'm not angry at the hooligans who stole it. I know that they don't think these things through. They don't think about the people who drove the car, how they will get home, what they will do without a car. They think about themselves. Because maybe they don't have anyone who does. All I gotta say is thank god we took the car seat out for the weekend!
Now we don't know if we'll ever even see the car again. It's sitting in East St. Paul, being fingerprinted and checked over. With it's poor ignition hurting because it was started with a screwdriver, it's steering column hanging broken, it's body defiled. (Yes, I feel bad for the car. I've always projected feelings onto inanimate objects. Like the lamp at my old house that was rarely used. I would turn it on so it felt it had a purpose. I'm a spaz, but at least I know it. )
Well, goodbye car. I didn't name you, but you were a good car. I will miss you.
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