Friday, February 09, 2007

Soliloquy for a Holden

Dearest Holden, today we put you to rest after nearly two years of service and dedication. They said you wouldn’t make it. They said the tow truck in the sky would catch up to you long before your time. Yet, even in your lumbering ways, you proved them wrong. I cannot help but to think back on all the positives you’ve taught us along the way.

To look inwards – you made us reflect amongst ourselves, given that the windows didn’t roll down. This taught us valuable lessons of self-examination and the value of conversation. Although we were not able to pay attention to life outside, we instead focused on the joys within.

Time is of essence – Oh, Holden, because your odometer didn’t work, life was forever stuck at 233,009 kilometers. This was your way of communicating to us that time was indeed precious; that we cannot make it stand still. We truly valued our stay here in your native land and although it did go by quickly, you reminded us to treasure it.

Strong body means a strong mind – Holden, you knew that by forcing us to struggle turning your divine steering wheel, your resistance strengthened our upper bodies to no end. Pushing you to the side of the road when you’d stall brought out the value of a hard day’s effort. The calories exerted and the muscles built trying to perform a three-point turn was a lesson in self-discipline.

Look after thy neighbor – Holden, by not being the most consistent of starters, you taught us the value of charity. Whether it was in the Blue Mountains or just down the street from our house, your inability to turn over set a precedent for giving. Our half-dozen experiences flagging down our fellow man and the good folks at NRMA taught us humility and patience. Sadly, jumper cables can no longer start your still-beating heart.

Respect thy elders – Sweet car of ours, Peggy has learned a lot about the automotive in the time we’ve spent together, she knows your engine and the various fluid reservoirs like the back of her hand. I am confident that when I get to the stage where someone has to monitor and upkeep me on a daily basis, your lesson in maintenance will have rung true.

Always have something left – our dearest car, how many times did we run out of gas? Was it three? Possibly four? They all seem to blend together now that I have to figure out what to do with the five gallons of petrol in the garage. The inability of your dashboard gauge to properly indicate the tank level kept us guessing. That’s spontaneity was such an essential part of your humor. Nor did we mind not being able to park you on an upward slope, because that meant whenever we would need to walk to your location, it would be downhill. Ahhh, I can just taste the metaphor.

Holden, I’ll be seeing you in every child’s tear, in every parting cloud. Although I sold my surfboard for as much as we sold you for, there can be no comparison. The surfboard had no moving parts, whereas you had at least four, excluding the wheels. I didn’t feel in the least bit petty by negotiating that the wrecker threw in two Diet Cokes from the vending machine on top of the asking price. It was a way for us to toast you for your service and your presence in our lives, one last time. You were truly Australian, even down to the Opera House shaped fragmentation on your front grill.

There will, truly, never be another car like you. Holden, may your future journeys always be a straight shot on a downward slope, as that was what you did best. We’ll miss you. Sniff.

posted by ncawthon at 3:03 PM