Today I sold the Saab (unflattering autopsy shot above) to her mechanic for $200. Manny said he’ll pick it for parts and then, once it’s pretty well stripped, he’ll fill it with scrap metal and haul it over to the junkyard. I’m glad I won’t be there to see that.
The Saab, never named, lived a hard life. I demanded a lot and gave little in return. She took me to Philadelphia in 2003, then on to college in Maryland, my first job in Saratoga Springs, graduate school in Charlottesville and finally back to Connecticut.
She trembled on the highway and the emergency brake was worthless and the AC filled the cabin with poisonous fumes but she started up every single time I turned the key and took me everywhere I needed to go. I took that eager loyalty for granted for nearly ten years, until her undercarriage rotted and the brakes whimpered and the upholstery faded to a weary gray.