November 05, 2005

Ross got his first paycheck from his new job, so we went out to celebrate. First on the agenda was a University of Portland soccer game. It was tit tweakingly cold, but a great game. 3-0 win for UP in their last regular season match and now it's off to the playoffs! We were as happy as little soccer loving clams when we left, albeit frozen soccer loving clams.

Later, we warbled off to dinner, because the car's been having trouble and it no longer runs, it warbles and moves more like a pogostick than a car. But we never made it to dinner because our warbling pogostick decided to do a Mt Vesuvius impersonation. I noticed the start of the eruption while we were at a stop light, a bit of steam wafting from under the hood. "Uh, Ross," I said urgently, pointing at the puffs o' impending doom. "Damn!" he spat, and I knew it was bad. When Mr Goody TwoShoes Polyana Vanilla Boy actually swears, you know the terrorist engine gnomes have won.

We managed to get the erupting car to a nearby gas station, where it thrilled everyone with tirades of belching and steaming. People were hitting the deck like they thought hot molten rock might come shooting out of it, meanwhile Ross and I just stared at each other as if to say, "do you want to shoot it, or should I?" And if we had a gun, we undoubtedly would have, but Ross packs heat of a different sort (nudge-nudge wink-wink) and the only thing I pack is an iPod. So we waited for the car to stop spewing, then filled it back up with water and race warbled home.

"This is it, isn't?" I solemnly asked Ross as we sat in the parking lot of our apartment building, listening to the car give a death gasp. "Yeah, I'm afraid so," was his somber response. My car was dead. My 21 year old, 367,000 mile bucket o' junk was dead. We'd known all week that it was on its last leg, we'd just hoped that leg was a little longer. We had debated trying to get it fixed for the 8 billionth time, but the problems were severe and there comes a time when you have to ask yourself what's humane.

It was long past its normal lifespan and suffering greatly, so we decided not to extend its bout on life support. No repairs, it was time to let the Honda go, we just didn't realize it was going to make a mad dash to the pearly gates of Honda heaven. We thought we had more time, time enough to reminisce, to say goodbye, to buy a new car. But maybe that's what pushed it over the edge. It wasn't gone yet, but already we were talking of a new car, about how much better life would be without the Honda. But the Honda, it got the last word, and that word was, "ppbbbt!"

Sigh. RIP little blue Honda.

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