I am not a car-person. For me a car is just four-wheels- and-a- steering- wheel contraption that takes me from point A to point B.
However, my first car, which i still drive, is very much a part of my life.
That little car of mine carries within its four doors, reams of memories. I have laughed, cried, thrown a fit, shed tears of joy, moaned and groaned in the confines of my car. She, my car that is, has been a witness to all- my success, my failures, my fears, my doubts, my moments of triumph and confidence. (No, i have never necked in the backseat, could be because I got my car well-past the necking-age)
Your car is one place where you can be yourself (the bathroom is another place). It's just you, your Maker and your car. You can talk to yourself, speak your mind, open your heart, do anything and the car will never judge you. And did I tell you -I'm not a car person.
Your car is one place where you create a lot of
memories. And memories have a life of its own -an energy about itself- they might fade a wee bit and fray around the edges over time, but they don't die. And your car, especially your first car, is a treasure trove of memories.
That's the reason why this image caught my attention. I pass by this abandoned car every day. It sits on the sidewalk -in rain and sunshine. Disintegrating into a mound of its own rust, little by little everyday. Yet, it sits on its belly, leaning on the strength of the memories it carries. Somehow that makes this dead car seem very much alive.
I wonder about its owner. I wonder about the memories he/she created in this car. The owner might have moved on to a bigger car, but I wonder -does he still think about this one? I know I would. I know my friends would. I have a friend who still scans the roads for her old car which she had sold to buy a new one.
This once-upon-a-time-pristine-white care remains -on the side walk, abandoned with just the memories of her owner for company.
Again -did I tell you -I am not a car person at all :) Honestly!
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