my civic, my adventure buddy.

I sold my car yesterday.

my dad bought me this car in 2003, right after I graduated from high school, on the cusp of moving three hours away from home for college. two years later, my dad passed away. one of the last remaining tangible things I had from him was this car.

It’s crazy to think this vehicle was really my adventure buddy for almost half of my life. moving to ventura, moving to san diego, moving to huntington beach, moving to my current home- los angeles.

the road trips. the shenanigans. the naps in the backseat. the emotional meltdowns. the belting of musicals.

the way the fabric is worn down on the back of the seat where I sat.
how the fabric is stained and dirty from where I prop up my left food when I drive.
the burn mark in the center of the seat from my, ahem, more carefree days.
how the steering wheel is worn from where I kept my hands.
the crystals on my dash that I received as support when I needed it most- that I kept in view as a constant reminder.

there is foundation in the glove compartment that my mom gave me at least 10 years ago, that I haven’t used in at least 9 years- but it’s still there. the necklace that hangs from my rear view mirror I bought from claire’s accessories in the mall. the bumper is cracked, and I don’t even remember why.

the peeling paint. the chipped door handle that cuts you if you touch it the wrong way. the way the door squeaks when I open it.

I cried yesterday, as I sat in my car for one last time. I cried because I was so appreciative of the memories I have with it. It kept me safe for the 170,000 miles we drove together. from 18 years old to 31 years old, in every way I changed and transitioned from one life milestone to the next- this car took me there. literally.

and now, a dad bought it from me to give to his daughter as she starts college. the journey continues on.

and I wouldn’t have it any other way.