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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.

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.

11 comments

It was a Celica. I called her Shelly.

[–] KillBill 0 points (+0|-0) Edited

I used to like the old Celica looks especially the blue model they had here and that seems a good name for one. Hopefully you never stop naming your cars. If you do, give yourself a slap.

Here's the type I'm talking about.

https://barnfinds.com/28179-miles-1976-toyota-celica-gt-liftback/

P.S My car's name is Cedric.

Oh man that is a sexy looking Celica. Looks more muscle than sport, which mine was.

I'm currently driving a shitty PT Cruiser, salvaged title with a seriously ripped up passenger side. I have no idea what to call it besides "the cruiser". And that name does not fit. These things don't cruise, they are just ugly behemoths.