The Silver Bullet

This week I was at a stoplight, looked in my rear view mirror (which I do all the time, by the way, curious about the people behind me, especially cute boys), and I saw it. A Previa. Oh, dear Previa, how I love thee.

I looked at the woman driving it, by herself, probably on her way to fill up the back seats with kids getting out of school. I thought, "she might be thinking, 'this car is pretty old, I wish we could afford to buy a new SUV...'" And I thought, "if only she knew how jealous I am right now..."

I loved our Previa. It was our car for over 10 years. We put over 200,000 miles on that baby, and it still had the best pick up of any of our newer cars. When I was a kid and had a bowl cut, my family used to make fun of the fact that the car's shape matched my hair style. Many a drive in that car, long road trips to grandparents' homes, short trips to and from day care, the grocery store, church, everywhere. My senior year in high school I drove that sucker, and when the steering wheel went as far as it could go it would squeal, causing my friends to turn and say, "Nice car, Bailey." Never cared. My love was too deep. When I was a social work intern, I went on home visits with one of the case managers, and we would ride in his Previa, and I told him how happy it made me, took me back.

The day we got rid of it, I wasn't aware of the trade-in. I knew we had talked about it, it was somewhere in the near future, though I liked to ignore the "near" portion of that fact. Sure, the A/C had gone out more than a year before, the sliding side door was unusable. But did I mention the pickup?! You tapped this gas and you were flyin'! I was home for the summer, and I came home from my job, and what had been in the driveway that morning was no longer there.

"Dad, where's the Previa? Did it go on a playdate with another 1991 model?"

...Long pause....

Gasp! "No!"

I assume my parents didn't tell me so as to soften the blow. When Mr. Rogers died, my Mom didn't tell me until the end of the school day. "Dad and I were afraid it would ruin your day," she said. How well they know me, those two.

I know I do a lot of tributes on this blog, and you're probably rolling your eyes, but who doesn't have a family car that still tugs at their heart? I love you, Prev. We all miss you. We always will.