It didn’t start out as my car. It was originally my sisters, then became my parents, and then was given to me as a sort of graduation gift from college so that I could commute back and forth to the Purple Rose and, well, it has been with me ever since.
About a month and a half ago, it died by the side of the road on a freeway heading to Barrington. Luckily, a tow guy managed to be driving by at the time (I otherwise might still be sitting out there) who helped me take it to the nearest Ford dealer where it was promptly diagnosed with a completely destroyed transmission. The cost of replacing the transmission was more than the car is worth and so finally, after weeks of putting it off, I’ve cancelled my insurance and mailed off the title to a junk yard to take care of the poor thing.
It is an inglorious end for a car that has served me well, despite years of being dinged, scraped, whacked and generally abused in the various neighborhoods of Chicago. Let it be known that my Ford Escape carried me across country on countless trips between Chicago and Detroit, a trip or two to Wisconsin, two trips to Stratford, ON and innumerable commutes to and from work during the cold, snowy winters in the city.
I have no plans to replace it right now. I need time to mourn. The ‘Nat-Mobile’ as it was affectionately called (by me and nobody else) will always be remembered for its trustworthiness.
And I know that, when the time comes and I decide it’s time to move on, I need only become a star played at Ohio State University* and I’ll have all the cars I need.
*'The' has been intentionally left off because it's dumb.
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