Just like pictures, I believe that events "find" the person. Just like pictures that want to be taken, events want to be experienced and talked about. One of these events happened to me today. Today, I sold my Sweet Hot Ride. My car is no longer mine. It is gone. It is out of my life.
And why am I so sentimental about a dumb car? Is it because it was my deceased grandmother's car? Is it because I got the car for free? Is it because it was my first car? Yes to all or some. I don't know. But I feel a profound sense of loss and sadness.
It happened like this:
Kevin and I are in the living room channel surfing. He just got back from the gym, I just finished doing numerous house chores. The phone rings. I pick it up, and it is Dancer Phil who lives adjacent to Kevin and I. He tells me that some guy named Bruce is interested in buying my car. While I am on the phone, someone is knocking loudly at the front door. Kevin answers the door. It is Bruce. So, I invite him in, and I tell him the sad story of my car. I tell him how there is thousands of dollars worth of repairs that need to be done to the engine. I tell him about the fire damage to the exterior of the car. He tells me he is looking for a "fixer upper" for his sixteen-year-old son.
I show him the car. I start the car. It starts right up. (It starts right up after barely being driven for six months. How reliable.) He is salivating at the prospect of acquiring this car for cheap. I sell the car for $225. I was hoping for $250, but I knew that would be an impossible dream. It is pretty hard to command for a price when the car needs that many expensive repairs.
Now the car is gone, gone, gone. I am sad, lonely, sad.
I think I just lost a good friend.
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