Yes, it is sad but true. The days of exclaiming, "Vamos allí! Vamos acquí!" while adventuring in my trusty Subaru are all but done.
This is the epilogue to my adventure story, an epilogue which I have been avoiding writing.
Two Fridays ago, January 28, I was in Asheville, North Carolina. The sun was shining brightly, the crisp mountain air invigorating as it enveloped me in a familiar breeze. Bluegrass played on the public radio station as I cruised into town, and my eyes filled with tears at the sound which reminded me of home.
Before leaving Kim's, I had looked up directions to a particular coffee shop. I wrote before about how the highways surrounding Asheville form an especially confusing cloverleaf; here lies the source of my confusion. I got off at the wrong exit and found myself in an entirely unfamiliar part of Asheville. I craned my neck to read street signs as I hastily tried to reconstruct a mental map of the downtown. Anyway, long story short, amidst this confusion I turned and got myself and the adventure-mobile into a traffic collision.
I was heartbroken. Here I was, less than 400 miles from home, closer than I had been in nearly three months. I had driven across the country and back - in winter! I had wound up and down mountain passes, taken back roads where few others would, squinted through fog. In the previous fifteen days alone, I had driven 5,000 miles, and without incident at all! I drove the speed limit all the way across the country and back! I am not kidding. I was so safe. And here, so close to home, so close to my triumphant return, an auto incident (the drivers' manual taught me there are no traffic "accidents").
Luckily, the adventure-mobile was driveable, which is why most of you have heard nothing of it until now. I still made it to my next adventure-stop in West Virginia, and did indeed have the triumphant return to Athens I'd envisioned. The front passenger door is pretty smashed in, though. Oh, I'd even say it's altogether destroyed. Toss in a shattered window, a little bit of damage to the front fender and a tad of injury to the rear door, mix in a 15-year-old car who somebody just racked up thousands of miles on, and the insurance company took one look at it and said "We ain't fixin' this jalopy."
Well, effectively, that's what they said. I pleaded and begged, I got an independent assessment of the damages, I thought about salvaging the vehicle (a rather complicated process in Ohio), I cried and ignored it for a few days, but then I started browsing used-vehicle listings. The insurance company is actually offering me a decent price for it - more than I could potentially sell it for. I personally believe in the adventure-mobile's strength, and have no doubt as to the engine's longevity. Not to mention, we've been through so much together! I've had the car for just over six years, and we've especially bonded over the past year.
But, like all relationships, it's okay if it runs its course. I decided that, should the adventure-mobile give out on me even in the near future, it's unlikely I'd be getting quite the offer from the insurance I'm looking at now. I have a bit of dough, so I'm able to dream about getting a slightly newer version of the intrepid 'mobile, for I still have the utmost faith in used Subarus. And it is a little bit exciting, just in the way new friends, new partners, new cities are exciting, to enter anew into an automotive relationship.
So, thank you, adventure-mobile. Over the past six years, we have canvassed much of the country. You accompanied me on countless trips to Seattle and countless more to Portland for marching band. We trekked all over Oregon, to the coast, camping, to casinos. You got me to Ohio, not once, but twice! You patiently let me drive you on extensive detours from coast to coast. You've ferried all of my belongings between several apartments, sometimes housing them for months when at times I moved at a more languid pace. You've also been my companion dashing around town, to the grocery store, to bars and parties, graduations and job interviews. You've carted around friends, family, boyfriends and dates gone bad.
I have sobbed in your domelike embrace, and laughed with utter glee. I have filled you with music, both from the radio and out of my own mouth; humid summer air and crisp mountain breezes have filled in from your open windows. You have tolerated my pasting colorful stickers on your rear, and you even survived when an untoward citizen smashed a window. You calmly have allowed me to grind gears, pop the clutch a few times (years ago! I swear!), and other tiny mistakes as I got used to your odds and ends. We've gone up mountains, down dirt roads, along the shore, parked on muddy fields, and everything in between. You've kept on trucking as I posted some 74,000 miles on you. You were my first car, adventure-mobile, and you done good.
