The End Of An Era






Today I got word on my poor Bumblebee.
   Dead on arrival.  He won't be back for one last encore performance.... my faithful car of almost 6 years is no more.  I went to the compound where it was stored and removed all the personal effect...
   It was sad really. I didn't realize how sentimental I was towards my car, having always had a love/hate relationship with the thing.. but as I pulled up to my destroyed vehicle, Pearl Jams Black (my favorite PJ song), came on my psp and blared in the speakers of the rental and I was a bit morose.
  I emptied out most of the stuff and decided to put the key in the ignition to pop the CD out. On came the same song.. it was like poor Bee was saying goodbye, singing that last sad song to me through the same channel.
  Normally you have to be plugged in with the adapter (which was sitting snugly in the rental) for a signal to be broadcast...
  Well.. I guess not.  The song came on when I put my key into the ignition for the final time... I cranked the sweet sorrow way up to 11....and slowly carried my belongings out of my great little ride.

  It was way sadder than I had anticipated...not really anticipating ANY sadness.. but there it is... 
  That car had been through some of my toughest times in life, was my first official car purchase of my very own,  had been with me for some very important firsts....  It was weird to have to let it go.

  Some inanimate objects can really take on a personality, have a persona, and steal into the heart and mind of the owner. It's a funny thing, and hard to put a finger on, but you almost become like friends; who else will listen to your horrid singing on the drive to work? Who else will listen to the muttered swears in morning traffic with mute stoicism?  Who else will be there when you need to vent and escape?
   

  Rest In Peace old friend.

    Bumblebee - January 21, 2005 - May 18, 2010

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Spin the globe and see where you land

      Funny the difference a season can make.  My last post at the end of Spring had me gearing up for an epic European backpacking trip.  Rome, Naples, Procida Island, Bolzano, and various other stops in Italy before swinging up to Poland to visit with a friend there after staying with a gracious and patient friend in Italy.  Wroclaw was special to see for the historical side of things but more importantly to me, it was the birthplace of my dear friend Margaret.  Slawek, her brother, and I would travel the streets of their youth that they had told me all about over the course of decades... it brought Maggie back a little bit, for a short while.  A special end to a pretty special trip.  Definitely had some bittersweet moments as well but the glory of the Roman ruins, the awe inspiring mountains of the Dolomites, to the excitement of hiking up a winding hillside through dense brush and tree cover to behold the ruins of old castles, meticu...
Read more

Blogwork is Homework is Good Work

 Hello, Gentle Reader,    This blog has always been my way of sharpening my writing chops, or shaking off the rust of my laziness and trying to find my 'voice', as it were, online.  I know, Gentle Reader, that you often do not give feedback, and thats ok.  This space isn't meant as an ego-reach and any and all feedback regarding my posts is appreciated, often more than you might guess, but thats not why I write here.     Most of my drive and reasoning is the simple act of it.  Writing is healthy for the soul and great practice more than anything else, the more practice you put in, the better at it you get... or at least that's what I keep incessantly telling myself, forever hopeful that I am in fact getting 'better' as a writer, whatever that actually means.  I suppose my ability to project my voice comes down to you, Gentle Reader.  I hope you hear me and I am able to project the visuals and a sense of where I am, figuratively as w...
Read more

Fuck this place, I’m out…

I grew up poor.  Really poor. To steal a line from Chris Rock, we grew up so poor we couldn’t afford the O R at the end of the word, we were just PO. hahaha. Still accurate. But my childhood poverty isn’t the point of this post. I mention it because growing up I had to watch all my friends going on family vacations to Disneyland and the Phillipines and Mexico and wherever their families were in the world while I roamed my asphalt jungle like a half wild animal in a cage.   I always vowed that I would see the world someday. It was a fervent childhood promise full of idealism and hope, as only a child can conjure.   In my heartbreak of being left behind and alone to fend for myself all summer, I knew, in my bones…I just KNEW… I’d go out there and see the world some day. Even as those bitter tears streamed down my little cheeks, the fire to see the world, the one I only ever read about in books, burned deep in my soul.  … … … Fast forward a few decades.  I’ve ...
Read more