I remember the day I got the car.
It was sunny outside. The kind of sunny day where your cold face feels the warmth of the sun, yet it’s funny because how far away is the sun? Really far away. So you’ve got to figure that the sun is pretty damn hot. When I stand in front of an open oven and that makes me have to close my eyes and back away because of the heat, it often makes me think of the day I picked up the 1999 Volkswagen Passat because it was so sunny that day I had to blink my eyes to protect my retinas.
But the heat, of course, lessened as I sat my butt in the comfortable tan leather seats. The smell was overpowering — the clean, new car leather smell that ironically still permeates the car today. I can remember pushing a button on the elaborate technologically-advanced console and watching as the power windows lowered with amazing ease. Outside, a girl stood on the corner. We shared a look. It was love at first sight. She wasn’t half bad either.
Over the last few years, of course, my beloved automobile has sat in guarded privacy in a garage, keeping the beautiful white body in pristine condition. Hell, the fact that I hardly ever took it out (you don’t take a beautiful girl out much in public either if you know what you’re doing) has something to do with it’s extremely low mileage (46,000). Some people scoff at it, of course, but I don’t. A beautiful car is a beautiful thing. It’s, of course, music to my ears.
And really, what is a car without beautiful music? A wonderous 6 CD changer has played the soundtrack of my life over the last few years, periodically scoring the milestones of my life. Sometimes, I would open the four doors of the turbo four-cylinder monster, and let the music blast out the solid doors and electronic sunroof. People would stop and say things like, “God I sure hope you sell that car someday, because it’s one damn beautiful piece of machinery.”
If only they were here today, they would be giddy with excitement.
It’s tough, though. After all the memories and all the moments and all the history-making fast-paced driving to let my baby go. Especially at such a competitive Bluebook price of $10,500. I mean, that’s like highway robbery.
Of course, things would be easier in finding my Passat a home if the online car sites would allow me to really express my feelings about a mechanical God that has shaped my life for 4+ years. But that, of course, would just be plain silly. A story about my car, just to find the right person to buy it?
Yeah. You’re talkin’ crazy.