I bought my first vehicle for $1200. It had around 150k miles on it. It lasted me nearly 8 years. During that time it provided me a way to get on my feet and start making something of myself. It carried me for fifty thousand miles, kept me warm when I had to sleep outside, and paved the way for where I've ended up today. I replaced all four tires twice, went through three batteries(the first one had exposed wiring and subsequently blew up during a storm), and put in a new radiator.
It was a tiny two door Toyota, but it served as a moving truck several times. I crammed five people into it and drove across the state. I made love in that car. I ate so much fast food in that car. I almost died in that car.
It was a good car. Now the engine seized in the middle of traffic and I pushed it to its final resting place. Repair bill of $9k. I never knew how much it meant to me until last night, when somebody dropped me off at my home and the parking space was empty. I had expected to see it there, where it always was.
I find myself looking for it in parking lots, jingling my keys hoping that it would appear. Sounds really dumb, but I think I developed an attachment to it. It was a part of me for so long, and now its dead.
Thanks for reading my story.