Yet another piece of my old life will be gone this afternoon.
I’m trading in the family car after 13 years of sterling service.
The car went through a lot with us, including delivering me to hospital for the births of both my daughters.
I will never forget clutching the dashboard in agony as we drove through the streets of eastern Sydney in the early hours of Sunday morning, November 23, 2003, while I endured some of the most traumatic hours of my life.
Then there was the terrifying drive home again with a newborn in the back.
Like me, the car is covered in battle scars, although I finally removed all the stickers the kids had plastered over the windows last year.
I’ve enjoyed having a battered old car, it means never having to worry about where I park it or what I run into while I’m reversing. (I have quite a bit of form in that area.)
I’ll have to be so much more careful with the new one.
I cleaned all the detritus out of the rattler yesterday afternoon.
And, yet again, it made me curse my absent ex.
I scolded him and called him ugly names as I tossed bottles and wrappers and bags from the seats and floor.
Fark him for farking off and making all these major life decisions my solo burden.
Fark him for not cherishing the memories we made in that car … in our lives … with our family.
Just plain fark him to hell.
But, hey, life goes on.
Guess what colour my new car is … go on, guess!
Song of the day: Tracy Chapman “Fast car”