A little over eight years ago, while on a break at college, my dad and I drove to Louisville to meet a guy in a parking lot of a bank. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon. We talked to the guy and I drove a beautiful blue, Rav4 I didn’t own through traffic on Hurstborne Lane. It felt weird and unnatural. We spent what seemed like several hours with the guy, first in that parking lot and at a credit union where my dad paid the guy for the car. I drove the Rav home, stopping only at our insurance agency.
It wasn’t long until driving in the Rav because comfortable. I cannot tell you how many trips she and I took. First, back and forth from Shelbyville for Nashville. Then from Shelbyville to College Station, Shelbyville to Waco, Waco to Anderson and Anderson to Shelbyville.
The Rav has been a constant companion through a growing time in my life. She took my mom and I on a road trip to look at future graduate schools and while on the trip we happened to detour at the Waco exit. I stopped only because two of the men I worked for were Baylor grads and I thought I should take a picture of the sign for them. Little did I know that Rav and I would move to College Station, then to Waco.
The Rav has been the only witness to jam sessions, laugh sessions, crying-while driving sessions and lots of heart felt prayer. She got me quickly up the interstate when my brother was having emergency brain surgery. Apparently invisibly too. We went way over the speed limit past a state trooper with a radar gun and he didn’t bat an eye at us.
The Rav has moved with me to many places and been my dependable friend through times where I didn’t know where I was going to live next or what I would be doing. She has always started (minus one time, in my garage) and always gotten me safely where I needed to go.
Today, we ended our journey together. I sold her to a sweet older couple looking for a dependable used car. I know she will be what they need. As silly as it sounds, I feel the need to grieve. My adult life has known no other car. I have cared for her meticulously and she has seemingly done the same for me. As the wife drove off in
my her Rav, my heart sank a little. I know selling her was the right decision, but we had a good season together. A season full of growing, change, laughter, grief and love. Selling my Rav starts a new season for me. I don’t know what the new season will hold, but am thankful to my old friend who helped me get here.