I-Go

I need to decide if I want to sell my car in the next few weeks. Actually, I suppose it would be more like donating than selling since it's pretty much all tied together at this point with a few strategically knotted shoestrings. Chicago city stickers expire at the end of the month and I've got til July 15th to shell out $75 for a new one. My license plates are up for renewal at the end of July, which would cost another $78, and as I'm trying to put money aside to finance a move, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to pay over $150 for the right to own a car in a city I don't plan on staying in much longer.

Oh, haven't I mentioned I'm moving?

Yeah, it's sort of on my mind lately.

Last night I was hanging out with my friend Matt and he asked if I was planning to see B, my ex-boyfriend, before I left town. B and I moved here together from Missouri--somewhere there's a picture of the two of us, boxes in hand, standing outside our rented Ryder truck minutes before we left town. Months leading up to that move, I grew increasingly more anxious, and then the big day came and my friend Jared helped us pack up our shit and B and his two cats piled into the Ryder  and I got into my car with my one cat and followed him onto the highway as Springfield and my last 6 years there became a dot in my rearview mirror. In Chicago, B and I and the three cats found a place for ourselves, created a life for ourselves and despite hurdles and challenges and certainly differences in temperment, we made a go of it together for over three years. And years from now--decades from now--when I think about Chicago, when I think about the early era, I won't not be able to think of him.

"Isn't it weird how someone can be such a big part of your life and then things happen and they disappear and you just don't ever hear from them again?" Matt said last night as we sipped our whiskey sours.

"Yeah," was all I said in reply, "it is."

I haven't seen B in nearly three years--haven't spoken to him in almost two, and yet to think of leaving here without at least trying to reach out one more time seems a little sad. But, who knows--maybe he left town long ago, himself.

Sometimes I look for him on the bike path. He loved cycling, but I was always too afraid to bike with him--too afraid I'd lose my balance and fall off or get hit or god know's what. Now I think of him sometimes when I'm biking-especially when I see a bright yellow windbreaker like he used to wear, and I imagine what I might say to him. "Hey, look!" maybe, "I finally got over my fear!" I bet he'd look my bike over and tell me it's a nice one and I'd tell him he looks good and he'd ask me what's new in my life, and I wouldn't know where to begin. "Well, I ride a bike now," I guess I might say. And I suppose that'd probably sum it up pretty well.

"When I leave," Matt said, "I want to have a big blow-out party where I invite everyone I've ever known here, from all the different jobs I've had and shows I've done--I'd invite people I hadn't seen in forever just to see them all one last time in one place all together before I leave."

"Hmmm," I replied, imagining what a similar bon voyage would look like for me.

My own life here has spanned 7 years, 9 jobs, 4 apartments, several relationships, lots o' dates, many friends, 3 years of grad school, 4 cats, 2 bikes, and one car--one car that has sat every guy I've ever loved or even liked, no less. One car that has seen it all.

I was 20 when my parents bought that car for me and I sure didn't know much then. I let them buy me a Ford for Christ's sake. It was a surprise--them buying me a car. They were visiting me for a few days and said they wanted to shop around for a new car and I thought that sounded so incredibly boring and couldn't understand why they wouldn't want to do something fun while they were in town--like shop for new clothes at The Gap! It didn't even occur to me that they wanted to look for a car for me, and when we got to the first dealer and they told me to pick out something I liked and the light finally came on, I freaked out. That evening, I sat in my new car in my parking lot and cried. I was 20, it was summer, I had a new car, my rent was $200 a month, and I still sneaked into the fountains on campus after dark just to break the rules. I hadn't even ever had my heart really broken yet--life was good.

When I was 22, I crashed my car on Lake Shore Drive, visiting a friend in Chicago over Halloween weekend. I'd had my heart broken by then and had been roughed and toughened up a bit.  My car was nearly totalled and I had to leave it in a shop here for almost a month while it was repaired. B came back with me to pick it up when it was ready. I'd just had my first, second and third dates with him and when I told him I was nervous to drive all that way again by myself, he took off work and came with me. We had so much fun on our weekend in Chicago that before we left, I asked him if he wanted to move here with me. I think I was just afraid to go by myself. Nine months later we packed up the Ryder and took off.

And now seven years have passed and I have to decide if I want to get rid of my car in the next few weeks, and I know it must sound silly--my attachment to this thing that's held together with the strategically knotted shoestrings, but what it represents to me is hard to let go of. And what getting rid of it represents is kind of scary to embrace, because there's no one coming with me this time, and what I'm leaving behind is so much more than I've ever left before.

But in the end, what's waiting for me is worth it.

Comments

[Lori]

Yay! Comments! It's funny - I've been reading you for over a year now and I never even knew you had a car. You talk all the time about cycling and your commute via subway and getting stuck in the rain when cabs won't come, but I can't recall a single post where you mention driving.

You know you won't need a car in New York, so I would take the expiring stickers and plates as a sign to move on. You certainly won't miss it once you're there. :)

[X-GF]

LOVE this. thank you for sharing. can't wait to hear all about your adventures in the big apple.

[Colin]

Your car is a physical representation of your history. It's going to be tough to remove that tactile link to memory, but it will also be a big way to move on to making new history. I'm going to cry when I finally have to get rid of my car that I bought from 2000.

[leah]

I moved to Chicago in my first & only jalopy that I got when I was 20. Over the course of several weekends I moved my meager belongings into a bedroom I'd share with my sister until I found my own place. When it came time for me to part with her 7 years later, I was sad, too.

But when I saw the man who answered my craigslist ad for my (awesome) geo metro hatchback walk up WITH A HUNCHBACK, I laughed & thought it an appropriate & pleasant way to end my relationship with my leedle car.

What I'm getting at is that the anticipation of the emotional part of letting go of it was not nearly as hard as reality. It'll be all good!

[citywendy]

I forgot to turn off comments on this post, but it's so nice to to read them now that they're here, that I'll just leave them on for this post.

Lori: I guess I haven't really written much about having a car--I hate driving and think it's wasteful to drive alone when one can carpool, bike, take public transportation, so I use those options as much as possible. But it is nice to have the option to drive--especially when it's terribly cold or hot out...

X-GF: I can't wait to WRITE about the new adventures! :)

Colin: You're one of those friends I'll be sad to leave. Let's get drinks soon!

Leah: Hmm, maybe Craigslist is the way to go--thanks for the idea. And I know you're right that the anticipation is really worse than the actual letting go. At least I hope so.

[Lynne]

I just went thru that in May - I traded 'Bertha' in for a newer, shinier, much less of a gas hog vehicle. I had driven Bertha out of a crappy marriage in Ohio and into my new life in Idaho. (Idaho? Why didn't I choose NYC?)

Anyway, I understand, but if you look at the signs that are telling you it's the right time to part with her (I assume it's a 'her'), you'll feel really good about it.

Good luck!

[David]

I was directed here via Sheila's blog and I'm grateful for it. Sometimes I forget what innocence is, and then I read a piece like this, and it all comes back to me.

Beautiful.

[ChicagoJen]

That was beautiful, Wendy-- full of great imagery.

Two things: I sold my car exactly a year ago on Craigslist. I sold it in 48 hours to the first person who showed up. The people I sold it to were so excited about it that it helped me overcome my worry that I would miss it and all the memories that went along with it...

This is a great time to sell. Gas prices are horrible so if your car gets decent mileage you'll be good to go.

Also- ask about $200 over book value and then settle for book value. See if anyone is selling a car similar to yours on craigslist and ask for about the same.

Finally- I've been wondering. What's going to happen to your job when you leave? DO you like it? Would you recommend it? I'm dying for a change and am desperate!

[Aunty Christ]

You definitely captured what it is to leave behind everything that's grown dear to you to step into a new life you can only imagine. I've had to do this a few times--most recently last fall, and the first time, leaving Chicago. It's heartbreaking and difficult, and yet I've felt, whenever I've had to do it, that the act of picking up and starting a new life makes you appreciate your old life in a way you can't while you're living it. It's bittersweet, and that makes for good memories--and good writing. Thanks.

[juliebee]

I LOVE this post.

I'm going through the same thing.. selling the car that I got when I moved away for my first "real" job with my first "real" apartment and grown up life.

It's heartbreaking and oh-so hard to let go, but in the end is right. :)

[Alice]

I'm so glad you've got comments on again on this post too, Wendy! I've been reading you for a while, and I even e-mailed you once (and you responded, which was so nice) and I just wanted to tell you that your wistful, nostalgic writing often hits home to me in so many ways. I can never really express my reactions to your writing as well as I'd like to, but you really do know how to hit a nerve -- especially for our generation!

I, too, left a car behind back in 2002, but I hadn't had mine for nearly as long. I had been back and forth between France and the U.S., and that year I moved back to France again, where I am living now. I had JUST paid off my Honda Civic, which I had bought brand-new on my own four years earlier, and paid without a cosigner or anything. I've never bought anything else that substantial in my life, and I was SO ridiculously proud of myself for that accomplishment! Since then you'd think I'd have learned to handle my money better too, especially since I make quite a lot less here in France (although the quality of life really is great!) -- but nope, I'm far too into living for the moment, so it's catching up with me. Now I'm trying to buckle down and change my bad habits.

The only smart thing I really did back then was to use the money I got back on my car once I sold it to pay off my college loans before moving abroad -- and that was because my ex convinced me to do so! (bless him, I have good memories from our time together too... in spite of what he may think of me today!)

All that to say that your writing really stays with me and makes me think and reflect... Thanks so much for sharing! All the best of luck in your move to NYC in the coming months. It's a big leap, but it sounds like you're planning it out well, and I think you're going to love it.

[teahouseblossom]

What a lovely post.

And what's waiting for you in NYC is totally worth the journey you've taken to get here!

When you get here, let me know. We'll go out for drinks. I can't wait until you come over and join us in the Big Apple!

[Nicholas]

I remember selling my Jeep when I moved to NYC. KT remembers that Jeep... it practically defined me (in all my Han Solo glory). A Jeep is a car like an F16 is a plane... it's more than just transportation. When you drive a Jeep, and you encounter someone else on the road also driving a Jeep, you wave at one another. I don't know why, but you do. Selling it was one of the hardest things I ever did.

I bought it when I moved out of my mom's house at 16, and it was the only thing I could count on... even when it broke down it was reliable, in that I could fix whatever was wrong with a crescent wrench, a pair of pliers, and a screwdriver. I drove it distances it was never designed for, in weather it performed poorly in, and with more passengers than was safe. I once had a hitch-hiker ask to be let out because he was scared to ride with me at 70 miles an hour.

The last week I was in Missouri, I made the decision to sell it. My mom mentioned that a guy where she worked had told her how much he liked it... I called him and he came over 45 minutes later. He'd always wanted a Jeep.

He was in his late 40's and he told me stories of how he had friends with Jeeps when he was younger, and he'd dreamed of having one. I knew that it would be in good hands. It was a '79 and I had treated it like a Jeep, so it was a little rough--bent bumper from running into a pile of snow with a concrete piling hidden in the center, rusted frame from too much mudding in fields South of Springfield, and a lot of personal touches from always doing repair work myself. The man promised me he was going to completely restore it--it was his dream car.

I sold it to him for $500. I don't know what it was worth, it just sounded like a good price. I felt a deep loss the moment he pulled away in it--no one else had driven it, even for a moment, since the day I bought it. Old Jeeps are hard to control, and I didn't trust anyone to handle it. I almost cried when it turned the corner.

Two years later, I was home visiting my family for Christmas and I saw it driving along 160 Highway just North of Nixa. The paint was new, the bumper was straight, and it had a new top but I recognized it as mine... I had replaced one quarter panel with a '77, so the driver and passenger sides didn't exactly match. You wouldn't know unless you knew, and that's how I recognized it as mine. It made me feel good... that Jeep was built the year I was born. It had been through some rough patches, just like me, but there it was, still tooling along. I waved, even though I was driving my step-dad's mini-van, and the driver waved back. I didn't own it anymore, but somehow I felt like it would always be mine... that someday, years from now, I would come across it again, recognize the mis-matched quarter panels and buy it back. Probably not for $500, but hey, you never know... the owner might be moving to New York, just starting his own dream.