it was a good run we had, you and me. you were my first. we went to ohio together; you saw me through my first marriage, put up with the long haul from DC to guam and back again. you never complained, even when i dented your hood, kicked out your windshield, and took you off-roading in underbrush that pierced your gas tank. in return i put up with your idiosyncracies: the way you leaked down the pedals if you were parked on the level in the rain; the whining noise your fan started to make as you aged; your temperamental horn (that always managed to work when it was really important, and never worked when it would’ve gotten me in trouble); the speakers that decided to fry on a drive to new jersey. i never got around to buying that lift kit i’d always promised or fixing the damage some idiot did to your glovebox and center console when you were burgled, but i did install the extra side-mirror brackets so you could go topless and doorless in the summer; you also got the guards for your doorjambs and the bikini top to protect you from summer rainshowers.

but, as with many relationships, this one started to falter when a bright young thing entered the picture. you were left under a tree, all your windows open, through this summer and into the fall. i didn’t clean out the trash that had been piling up; your vinyl seats gradually got moldy and mildewed. you weren’t happy, and other than starting you up every now and again, i was neglecting you.

but now you’re off to somewhere better; somewhere you can work your 4wd L during the winter and enjoy the mountain summer breezes. and just ‘cuz i let you go for less than bluebook doesn’t mean i don’t still care. it’s better this way. for both of us.