Ode to a Car and Perhaps, to a life Gone By

Interesting how an inanimate object, through neglect and exposure, can so accurately and powerfully reflect the reality through which a person associated with it lived.

I once had a wonderful car, not all that long ago, a vintage car produced for only five years, a car that was with me through some very trying times and which I left in the care of what remained of a fragmented family when a new life started, or perhaps, just resumed, one that fate had interrupted many years before.

I left that car, along with almost everything else, in the care of someone I’d thought to trust although in all honesty, no rational reason had I to do so; just habit and the residue of affections gone sour.

The car, admittedly, required a slight repair, perhaps a three hundred dollar investment, and I’d left her with thousands of times that much. It was only a small part of the responsibility she’d insisted on assuming, she’d insisted on control over everything of value with promises of diligence and care, promises unkept.

And so, as with everything else, the car sits decayed and destroyed; whether through neglect or malice is hard to say, probably both. Sad, but mainly for the car, inanimate but deserving better.

But then again, everything else left in her care is in pretty the same condition. Perhaps except for me. And that’s a lot for which to be thankful.

_______

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