aka, "The Bull"
aka, "The Golden Calf"
She came off the assembly line and into the world an unwanted car.
Dropped off in Johnstown, Pennsylvania.
Passed around from renter to renter her first two years.
One kind retired man took pity on her, and brought her home for good.
But within a year grew tired of her.
Then one pastor saw something beautiful in her.
He sold all he had, a Malibu, and bought her.
And brought her home, to Lenior, North Carolina.
She was happy driving in those mountains and that hot summer sun.
She wasn't sleek and sexy like other cars.
No CD player.
No spoiler.
No sunroof.
She wasn't even what you might call reliable,
needing almost constant repair.
Her last few years were hard.
The harsh winters of Ontario, the salted roads and mammoth pots potholes, took a toll on her.
But what she was, was what I liked best in a car...
Paid for, and mine.
And for that reason, and that reason alone, I love her.
It was on a warm March 29 when she and I took a trip to Burlington.
We were looking forward to a nice drive home, just to two of us.
It was about 2:30pm.
She never even saw it coming...
One moment innocently driving through a parking lot.
The next moment, viciously t-boned.
Well, more like bumped into on the passenger side doors.
She was towed back home, and sent to the shop for repairs.
Repairs, it seems, that will ever happen.
"She's just not worth it." the insurance adjustor said.
Where harsher words ever said about a car who just wanted to be used?
I can't help but think of all the trips left un-trod.
All the adventures never ventured.
All the things left unsaid.
And so I say in closing,
"Good bye my Golden Calf, my Bull, my precious Ford Taurus.
You will never be forgotten.
But you will be replaced."
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