May 2010 Archives

I sold my Miata today.

It's strange to hold an inanimate object with the same affection as my cats, but I do. Just as Salem (rest his little kitty soul) and Pooka have provided me with nearly twenty years of warmth and comfort through good times and bad, the Miata provided ten years of joy and consolation. It was more than just a thing; it was long drives along windy North Carolina roads, my first sexual experience in a vehicle (let me just say that the roll bar is required for this to occur in a Miata), freedom from the stress of work and school, discovering the thrill of racing, the first big fight with the man who would be my husband and then ex-husband, making new friends and making friendly conversation with strangers. This common little car was as much a part of my identity as the color of my eyes, as much a part of my history as any of my dearest friends.

I spent years gradually upgrading it, setting it up to be just right for me, only to find the engine losing compression in all four cylinders. For those who don't know much about cars, this means rebuilding or replacing the engine, neither of which I have the skill or money to do right now. Spending a thousand dollars to ship it to California knowing that I'll be spending several thousand more to rebuild it was, quite simply, unwise. I didn't want to sell it, but it was the only practical solution, and I am - at my very core - a practical woman.

I left the Miata in North Carolina when I moved back to California...it was simply one less thing to deal with at the time. Despite being separated from the Miata for the last nine months, now that it is gone, I am bereft. I am also just a little relieved; so many of my North Carolina joys and sorrows are tied up with that car. It's as though I have given North Carolina its ring back and said, "I love you, but we are done. It's not you, it's me. There's this other state, you see..."

Fortunately, North Carolina is taking this all gracefully. Yes, we will still be good friends. Come back to me when you're ready. I'll always be here for you. One day, maybe I will. But for now, I will be Miata-less in California.

Good-bye, beloved friend. Thanks for the memories.