Today the one thing of value I own in the world was pronounced dead. My car, lovingly coined "JETNOIR" ("jet black", a triple entendre referencing it's all black interior, nod to the old Saab tag "born from jets", and my own jet black hair), a 2002 Saab 93, was pronounced dead at around 11am this morning. I will not go into the gory details of it's death, but I will say that my eyes are still puffy and red from crying. This was much more than a car to me, it was my independence.
Every since I was 15 and had the promise of a driver's license on the horizon, cars have meant independence to me. Back then a car was my ticket to getting the cuss out of my house (the last place I wanted to be) and to the rest of the world (well, at least the continental United States). I also decided back then that the cars I will own will say something about me, they won't be just random hunks of metal with wheels, they will make a statement about who I am, what I like and what kind of person I am.
What did JETNOIR say about me? I am a little sporty (it was a hatchback), a lot quirky (it had only one cupholder in the whole car), I stand out in a crowd (there are not too many of these on the road nowadays) and I appreciate a more boxy, Euro-designed vehicle. I am flexible (the rear seats folded down and offered ample room for a bike, or bookshelf, or random, street-found easy chair) and I have great style (the car was utilitarian yet fashionable). This car basically said I rocked, but in an unpretentious, understated way.
It surprises me how upset I am about losing this car. I was always very attached to it, but essentially, it's just a hunk of metal with some rubber and leather and plastic thrown in the mix. It was something that got me from place to place. But, I feel as though I have lost my cool best friend- the one whom hanging around with, just by association, made me somehow cooler. Goodbye, JETNOIR, you will always have a place in the garage of my heart.