We bid farewell this week to our rusty, crusty 2001 Chrysler Town & Country minivan. After many years of serving as the “family truck,” it was time for her to get off the streets. She just plain ran out of gas. Well, not literally; the tank was fine. But she could no longer get started in the morning. Or the afternoon. Or the evening. Even the good mechanics didn’t think it was worth keeping her on life support.
Salvage (savage?) vultures wanted her catalytic converter more than we wanted the constant expense of getting her up and running again. But we appreciate all her efforts over the years in hauling recyclables, helping people move, transporting green waste, and all the other things trucks typically do for their owners. It was a good run. Time to start looking for another truck. Maybe a real one this time.
Oh No! I am brought back to the very day that I had to have my VW Quantum taken away. My friend Jerry arranged for a school to take it. I was crying when Jerry with a school teacher-like voice said, “Now, give the man your keys.” (I think my husband was laughing or maybe just smiling at my meltdown.) Her name was Ännchen, from von Weber’s Der Freischütz. I called her that because she was always the bridesmaid, never the bride. (I had had several Alfa Romeos before Ännchen.) I still miss Ännchen, but now I have Greta Carbo (my Swedish Volvo), who is 23 years old and has traveled almost 330,000 miles with me. Greta will be my last car. We might make it to 500,000 miles.