I bought a new car this weekend. A brand-spanking new car. This car in fact: And while I am more than exhilarated over my new purchase and all the wonderful features that my new Escape (which thankfully looks nothing like the old ones)has to offer, I kind of miss my old p.o.s. Rodeo.
My new SUV includes things like Bluetooth compatibility with my Blackberry that allows me to command my vehicle to "Call Joshua" or "Play Allman Brothers" and a wonderful sunroof that I haven't even been able to use much because of the yellow sinus-killing fog that is looming over Eastern NC. However, when I traded in the Isuzu and told the nice car salesman that it had over 99,000 miles, I couldn't help but think about what had happened during all those miles.
I was astonished when they said they could give me $2500 for the hunk of junk, especially considering the extensive damage to the front end when I had a disagreement with a telephone pedestal during the 2009 snow, the much needed replacement of the brake pads and something called a serpentine belt, and the dings that colored the doors, but then I realized that $2500 doesn't nearly equal out to the sentimental value the Rodeo held.
Now, before I go talking about how awesome my SUV was, I will go ahead and say that I am incredibly guilty of complaining about the Rodeo and its poor gas mileage, horrible brakes and its quest to leave me stranded in random places. But all the bad thoughts I had about the Rodeo are easily out weighed by the good.
In that Rodeo, I shared first kisses with a few [only a few ;)] boys, made countless trips to and from Wilmington, took road trips with best friends, went on shopping adventures, got lost on the way home from concerts, road for hours trying to find a haunted hayride that didn't exist, changed into soccer practice clothes in the parking lot behind the SWE, broke up with boys, made up with boys, backed into my own grandma's car, and countless others.
Not all the memories I’ve made in that car are good though. The last time I ever held Mac Daddy was in the Rodeo on our way to Dr. Gregg’s before he died; his white dog hair is still in the nooks and crannies.
The Rodeo was more than a car, it was a safe harbor. I would drive for hours (before gas got so expensive) just talking to God and myself, trying to work through decisions. I drove up and down Lumina Avenue in Wrightsville Beach trying to decide if I wanted to leave UNCW or not, I climbed in my car and flew to Pitt Memorial when they thought Mema Dean had an aortic aneurysm, praying the whole way, I climbed in the backseat and just laid and cried before Mema Kay’s funeral.
Josh and I drove the Rodeo the first time as husband and wife to Raleigh the night we got married and to the airport the next day before heading to St. Lucia, we topped 90 mph. on the way home from Cary when we found out Mr. Wilbur was in the hospital on February 9, 2008 and we brought Sookie home from the Worsley’s in the Rodeo.
I know that I may have sold my car, but the memories that were made in it are priceless. I can only hope to make as many in the Escape as I did in the Rodeo.