From Bags to Riches

Ever since I was a kid I have had an issue with personification.  Not an issue with what it means, I have a problem personifying everything in my life.  I attach emotion and a back-story to almost everything I need to throw away, donate, trade or hand in.  I remember when I was about 6 or 7 I was playing in our front yard (when it was safe to do that without parental supervision or an electric fence surrounding a property) and my Mom had given me some sort of snack in a Zip-loc or other generic type bag to eat whilst I pretended to be Jem from Hollogram fame on our front porch.  I finished said snack and threw the empty bag over my shoulder, (clearly recycling wasn't a concern of mine) and much like American Beauty, I watched the bag slowly tumble down the driveway and into the gutter, and in my head thought "What if that bag has a family, and all it wants is to be reunited with the rest of it's family in the garbage can, and I just threw it away?!"

I retrieved the bag, stuffed it in my pocket and felt such satisfaction by throwing it in the garbage , hoping it would find some sense of camaraderie among the other discarded items.  It became a life-long problem.

You can't make this stuff up.

I pictured myself as Jem, or if not, Purple afro gal.

Why on earth do I tell you, the 3 people who may still read my blog, this story?  Because tomorrow Adam & I are going to trade in our beloved 2001 Volkswagen Jetta (or Yetta as we dubbed her after Adam mispronounced it the first time) for a shiny brand new 2013 Jetta.  Today I cleaned her out, and instructed Adam to take her for one final wash tomorrow, and to take some pics for the inevitable day when our future kids say "What did your first car look like?"   

Yetta was my first ever car.  Purchased used from a BB Gun happy rube outside of London that decided before I bought the car from him, it was a must that I knew the ins and outs of his divorce, and that the car kept his ex-wife safe when she used it, but hopefully nothing else would.  (I don't think it was amicable.)  So almost 214,000km's later, with a dashboard lit up like the 4th of July we will trade her in, with me hopeful she will be used for more than a strip show to sell her off for parts.  It's so degrading, and I'm trying to remember it's just a car.  Just a heap of metal with tires that took us...

-To and from the airport for 5 cruise ship contacts and numerous family pick-ups

-Adam drove her to our wedding

-To Chicago (twice)

-To Ottawa

-To Toronto too many times to count

-To Wal-mart to buy tweezers when Émilie decided to pet a cactus and we fell in love with Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" to stop her from crying

-To 2 Funerals in one summer

-To get Adam's Permanent Resident status card

-To my 5 jobs since 2008

-To Adam's 2 jobs

-Through one accident safely (Adam!)

-To Niagara Falls & Niagara On The Lake

-To Buffalo for Celine Dion

-To Toronto for Celine Dion (the following week)

-To Detroit airport 

-My first (and only) speeding ticket

-Adam's first speeding ticket and a parking ticket (Yes, Adam you have to park the same way traffic goes in this county!)

-To Yoga

-To Arbonne Will Call

-To Family Events

-To go camping and fishing and on date nights and grocery shopping 

-To Adam's first ever musical in Toronto

-Wynton back and forth to the vet every day for a week when he was ill

-Through so many drive-thru's I can't begin to count

-Back to a VW dealership because we are so happy with ours we wanted another one

How can you not stop to think that the memories surrounding that sexy hunk of metal are not somehow permeated into the leather and plastic that surrounded us?  Yetta wasn't just freedom and a way to get around for me, she was the first car I bought and was so proud to pick up Adam with when he came home from his contract without me.  She was my first ever possession that I had to insure, and from day one felt completely safe in.  She goes like fire off the line, and her horn does NOT mess around.  

Adam was determined to sway me towards a different car, a different brand.  But no.  I would not waiver.  I know he'll miss that beep she makes when he hates a song and you abruptly turn down the radio, and how when he locks her  at night with her amazing trademark jack-knife key it beeps 3 times and he yells "Bye Yetta" through our parking garage.  (The new model doesn't have such kick-ass features)  He'll miss me putting in the tapes that Mark made me in high-school (yes, it has a tape deck with a CD changer in the trunk!  I told you it was cool!) and he'll miss burning his legs on those hot summer days on the leather.  We both will.

So, tomorrow I will do my best to thank her for her almost 6 years of safety, fun memories and so many trips since we got married without any sort of weird emotion.  Sounds crazy, but that car was my first step at proving I was an adult, and that I could go anywhere her Turbo engine would allow it.

Thank you Yetta. You are Das BEST Auto ever.

Beep Beep.