With 153,512 miles in it’s odometer, my old reliable, Japanese mid-sized SUV, the Suzuki XL-7, now sits bare and clean in the parking lot of a dealership. Gone are the dirt I tracked, the french fries and Starbucks cups I’ve consumed, the coins, the odd bits and pieces of things I’ve brought in and out of that lovely car. It turned 12 years old this year, and been in my family’s possession for 11 of those years. It was a car of firsts; our first car, my first car, my sister’s first car. We’ve driven it as far North and often as Long Island, as far south as Florida, and as far west as West Virginia.
Holding an emotional attachment to a motor vehicle is heartbreaking. I loved thee, ol’ reliable Suzuki XL-7. It’s with sad heart to trade you in for a vehicle scarcely 2 years younger than you are.
Used cars seems like a filthy phrase when, ups and downs, they’ve sheltered you from the elements as best they could and brought you from point A to point B and onto other points beyond that in the lenght of service they’ve done with you.
;-;7 My faithful Japanese mid-sized SUV. I’ll remember you.
In less heart wrenching news, I’m currently watching Episode 1 of Series 19 of Top Gear UK. I guess I’ll talk about the show after consoling my psyche and remembering the things I did and places I went to in that old reliable black XL-7.