Goodbye, Roo
Last night marked the end of an era. A 3 1/2 year stretch of my life, during which I spent 100,000 miles behind the wheel of my beloved 2003 Cavalier, named Roo.
Roo was a good car. Never an ounce of trouble. The only mark on her otherwise perfect service record was the replacement of the fuel pump this past summer. She was smooth, zippy, great on gas and reliable.
Roo saw me through the good times and the difficult times. The 120-mile round-trip daily commute. Several trips to Los Angeles, Redding and Reno. My rebirth and founding of a new life in the South Bay. The myriad of emergency calls at work, speeding off to my destination, first aid bag on the back seat, ready for action. And through it all, the car never complained.
I knew I couldn't keep her. My dream car, now named Breeze, had arrived, necessitating a sale.
Coincidentally, or perhaps by fate, a good friend of mine's girlfriend had been thinking about buying a car. Stricken with a severe case of carpal tunnel syndrome, and possessing of a car with manual shift and without power steering, she was rendered reliant on others and public transit some time ago. In that, she had lost a piece of her freedom. Still fiercely independent and motivated, she needed another way of getting around. Roo was a perfect match.
Last night, as I watched the new owner drive away, I realized that my old car wasn't just a car to her. It was her independence, her freedom, and the restoration of a part of her life that she had previously lost.
My old car was able to give that to her.
In my daily routine, I strive to make others' lives better, whether through friendship, comfort, business matters or emergency response. Selling Roo didn't just take a car off my hands, it enhanced the life of another person.
Such is always my goal. And last night, that goal was achieved.
I couldn't have asked for anything better.
Roo was a good car. Never an ounce of trouble. The only mark on her otherwise perfect service record was the replacement of the fuel pump this past summer. She was smooth, zippy, great on gas and reliable.
Roo saw me through the good times and the difficult times. The 120-mile round-trip daily commute. Several trips to Los Angeles, Redding and Reno. My rebirth and founding of a new life in the South Bay. The myriad of emergency calls at work, speeding off to my destination, first aid bag on the back seat, ready for action. And through it all, the car never complained.
I knew I couldn't keep her. My dream car, now named Breeze, had arrived, necessitating a sale.
Coincidentally, or perhaps by fate, a good friend of mine's girlfriend had been thinking about buying a car. Stricken with a severe case of carpal tunnel syndrome, and possessing of a car with manual shift and without power steering, she was rendered reliant on others and public transit some time ago. In that, she had lost a piece of her freedom. Still fiercely independent and motivated, she needed another way of getting around. Roo was a perfect match.
Last night, as I watched the new owner drive away, I realized that my old car wasn't just a car to her. It was her independence, her freedom, and the restoration of a part of her life that she had previously lost.
My old car was able to give that to her.
In my daily routine, I strive to make others' lives better, whether through friendship, comfort, business matters or emergency response. Selling Roo didn't just take a car off my hands, it enhanced the life of another person.
Such is always my goal. And last night, that goal was achieved.
I couldn't have asked for anything better.
posted by Andrea at 18:52
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