I turned my back as he pulled out of the gate and headed up the road, not wanting to see him leave for the last time. We had been together more than eight years and covered a lot of territory in that time. More than a hundred thousand miles. My friends were all a little surprised when he came into my life in 1998. They just didn’t see him as my type.
We had many adventures together. He took me to Phoenix, Flagstaff, Barstow, Bear Valley, South Tahoe, San Francisco, Eugene, Yellowstone, Flaming Gorge, and brought me back home to Texas. He took me to Key West, Asheville and DC and brought me back home again. He provided lodging and music along the way. He was always willing to carry my stuff, even if it meant pulling it along behind him.
The first thing my friend David Lamotte said when he saw him was “That’s a big honking truck.” That stuck and he became BH. (I don’t always name my automobiles but if one comes out and tells me its name it gets to keep it.)
Stephen had been grousing for more than a year about how I really should start thinking about getting a smaller vehicle. I was resistant to that idea even though it was a pain to park due to its length (extended cab with a long bed) and used more gas than I was comfortable with from an environmental stand point and parts were wearing out on it faster than I could get them fixed. It took awhile for me to realize that I had formed an emotional attachment to a huge hunk of metal and rubber. That really gave me something to think about. Finally the day came when the transmission started failing and it started dying on me for no apparent reason in the middle of the street. I knew it was time to let go. I parked it in front of the house and bought a ’99 Outback.
We had many adventures together. He took me to Phoenix, Flagstaff, Barstow, Bear Valley, South Tahoe, San Francisco, Eugene, Yellowstone, Flaming Gorge, and brought me back home to Texas. He took me to Key West, Asheville and DC and brought me back home again. He provided lodging and music along the way. He was always willing to carry my stuff, even if it meant pulling it along behind him.
The first thing my friend David Lamotte said when he saw him was “That’s a big honking truck.” That stuck and he became BH. (I don’t always name my automobiles but if one comes out and tells me its name it gets to keep it.)
Stephen had been grousing for more than a year about how I really should start thinking about getting a smaller vehicle. I was resistant to that idea even though it was a pain to park due to its length (extended cab with a long bed) and used more gas than I was comfortable with from an environmental stand point and parts were wearing out on it faster than I could get them fixed. It took awhile for me to realize that I had formed an emotional attachment to a huge hunk of metal and rubber. That really gave me something to think about. Finally the day came when the transmission started failing and it started dying on me for no apparent reason in the middle of the street. I knew it was time to let go. I parked it in front of the house and bought a ’99 Outback.
A guy who works for my landlord wanted to buy BH. I know he will be able to do all the work it needs himself and will give BH a good home and a purpose is life. BH will be hauling tools and materials around to his new owner’s work sites. The new owner appreciates BH’s body style and the captain’s chairs I put in to replace the bench seat. He is very happy to get such a great ride. I am happy that my old friend will not be sold for scrap just yet.
9 comments:
What a sad story. I'm so glad he'll have a good home, and hope you will have visiting rights. It's much better than having to put down an old friend.
I still miss my 1970 VW Bug which had to be sold when we moved to SF. Even worse, I didn't like the person who bought it, quite apart from the fact that she chiseled us down substantially on the very fair price we were asking.
I wonder if it misses me, too.
I'm sure it still misses you, heart.
I'll most likely post more stories about my adventures with BH, even the one he went on without me.
I do love the Outback. My massage table fits perfectly in the cargo space, it gets twice the gas milage BH did, and construction working men don't notice me so much anymore.
I'm sure they still do. But perhaps they're more discreet about it now that you're not driving a king cab pickup anymore.
Hey there,
Yeah, BH is a legend. I'm honored to have given him his handle. Dan the Tan Van now has 270,000 miles, and it will be quite a day for me when he retires from the road.
Lots of love,
David
Top Cat, that comment came from experience and I do laugh about it now.
Good to hear from you, David. I got 236k out of BH and was hoping for more. I don't think he liked city driving very much, though.
I empathize with you. We had to let our 10 year-old Tahoe go earlier this year. I got stranded one too many times for my husband. We replaced it with a Trailblazer, and fortunately the Tahoe is still in the family. My brother-in-law managed to get it back on the road.
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I empathize with you. We had to let our 10 year-old Tahoe go earlier this year. I got stranded one too many times for my husband. We replaced it with a Trailblazer, and fortunately the Tahoe is still in the family. My brother-in-law managed to get it back on the road.
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I can't say I feel emotionally attached to my old car (a '95 Fiat Punto) but I did enjoy reading your story about your ole BH :)
Marie
I felt similar when I sold my 1988 F-150 4x4 in 1994. Interesting how we become attached to our vehicles.
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