Is It Weird to Talk to Your Car?

Because I had to tell my old one goodbye

We went on many adventures in our twelve years together. But, alas, my girl had become incontinent of oil, and repairing the leaks would have cost more than she was worth. We had officially reached the “add oil every week and pray” stage of her life. 

She was tired. And as much as I loved her, it was, sadly, time to say goodbye. 

She was my first Honda. A CR-V. Highly inconspicuous, as there were so many of her kin running the roads. Anywhere we went, we’d see her twin. I made her more recognizable as mine by emblazoning her with stickers identifying me as a runner.

Yes, I’m one of those runners who brags about the races I’ve run and their distances. Of course, there was a 26.2 sticker. And thanks to a friend, there was a very special, chrome-laden 50k medallion as well. But her outward decor allowed me to quickly spot her in a parking lot.

I was heartbroken when she first showed symptoms of her struggles. I had just left an 18-mile run, proud of my accomplishment, but physically spent. As I accelerated onto the interstate, the dashboard suddenly erupted with multiple warning lights, kind of like a Christmas tree. The engine sputtered, and I knew we were in trouble.

We inched our way home as I crossed my fingers that she would actually make it. 

“Come on, girl. We can do this!” as I coaxed her along the last few miles. 

Shit. I was not expecting that. Especially since I’d just spent $800 nearly six months before on a new starter. The diagnoses of her new ailments cost nearly as much. 

Sigh. It was time to concede: I needed a new vehicle. 

This caused me great distress. Not only do I dislike change, but I also dread the investment in a big-ticket item that will certainly depreciate faster than I pour money into it. 

In this market, buying a used car is just as expensive as buying a new one, it seems. And even though I have a friend in the industry, she struggled to find me something decent and affordable. 

It killed me to drop so much money on a used car already out of warranty. I almost bought a Toyota in this category, but driving it felt like I was in a foreign country. It just didn’t feel like home. 

The universe understood my predicament. Before I’d signed the paperwork, a million things went wrong with the safety features. The sale was canceled. 

So, I didn’t settle for an outrageously overpriced used car. I spent less on a new one, and still a Honda. 

Sure, the wait was long: nearly three months. But it was worth it. And when she arrived, I had to have a talk with my old car.

“Honey, you’ve done a great job. Your work is almost done, and then it will be time to rest. But first, I need you to make it to Alexandria with this nice man. It’s a two hour drive. Sure, they may end up donating your organs to other cars, but you will be giving life to worthy vehicles. And then you can rest!” I spoke to her as I gently stroked her dashboard. 

She didn’t respond. I wonder if she was as sad to go as I was to see her leave. 

For all of the quirks she’d developed over the years, she was a part of my life for over a decade, and I was going to miss her.

I was quick to point out my car’s funny little personality traits to my salesman. 

“So, she vibrates a bit as you are accelerating from 50 to 60 miles per hour, so don’t be alarmed. And she doesn’t like tight turns. She vibrates with those, too. Also, she’s incontinent of oil. I just checked it, and you should be good. But there’s oil in the trunk just in case. But, hey, her AC works, and you’ve got a six-disc CD changer! And I also left you with a full tank of gas.”

The salesman was stunned that I’d filled it up. But my friend who was helping me find this car insisted that it would be really nice of me to do so. He was very appreciative. 

Wherever she is, I hope that she is well. I still miss her, especially my CD player, but I’m finding things to love about my new car, too. For example, it has a functional key fob, it talks to my phone, and it has a backup camera. Oddities in my old life with my CR-V.

I especially miss not having a car payment. 

Oh, well. Living in rural-ish suburbia, you must have a car to get to work. And you must work to be able to afford a car. It’s quite the conundrum. 

My new car and I are bonding. We haven’t quite reached the relationship level of my prior vehicle, but we’ll get there. I enjoy the song she greets me with when I close the door and get ready to drive. I give her an approving tap on the dashboard when she accelerates well. She gives me feedback when I stray from my lane or get too close to another car. My only complaint is that her horn is a bit too timid for me. It’s way too polite, but I’m sure I’ll get used to it. For now, she’s void of decorations. I’ll probably keep her this way for a while. And I’d like to think that she is already a fan of my iTunes collection! Even so, I still miss my old car. 

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Have you ever had to say goodbye to a car you’ve had for over a decade? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

As always, I hope you all are safe and healthy.