Bitersweet

I sold my car yesterday.

I was so excited when it passed smog, because that meant we could sell it instead of having it scrapped or otherwise destroyed.

But yesterday, after turning it over, and even after pocketing the check that we got in return, I felt torn.

I’ve had that car for seven years. My immediate family has had that car for another 3-4. And my extended family has always owned that car.

And now somebody with no blood relation to me, and only a somewhat tenuous connection, owns my car.

It’s been a good car, and given me lots of good times. I used it to drive back and forth between John’s apartment and my college, two and a half hours a day. I used it to drive across the country to get here to California and start a new chapter in my life. I used it to drive home from college to visit my family countless times.

So I was excited to be able to sell it and not have it torn apart, but I was very bittersweet about letting it go.

My new car is all things great–good for diving, good for carrying people and random crap around, and a good, safe car. John doesn’t worry about me when I’m driving it, especially when I’m on the highway.

But it doesn’t quite yet feel like my car.

I refer to it as such, but mostly because John’s car is “your car” or “John’s car” or “his car”.

Maybe I need to name it. Personalize it somehow. I don’t know. Any suggestions?

I’m not sure I’d rather have my car, but I miss it nonetheless. Sort of.

It is a totally inanimate object, one that has played a significant role in my life over several years, but it’s still just a car. So I feel sort of silly missing it.

*sigh*