Golden Memories

Yesterday marked the end of an era. My days riding the Golden Bullet are over.

To those of you unfamiliar with the legendary Golden Bullet, let me introduce you. The Golden Bullet was a long, cylindrical, gold-colored motor vehicle, tapered in front, and somewhat resembling the shape of a bullet (except on a much larger scale of course). It was the Town and Country minivan that I inherited when I moved home from college. Not exactly my first choice of a vehicle, but free equaled beauty in my eyes. The Golden Bullet had been in my family for almost ten years, and in my personal care for the last year and a half. Now, at the end of its life, I look back and reminisce over all the times we shared…

My first memorable experience with the Golden Bullet was less than a year after I got my driver’s license, when I discovered its Texas-sized blind spots, and how perfectly palm trees could fit in them. Oh Golden Bullet, you carried that dent in the back right corner to the end of your days…

After I went to college she was in my parents’ care, so I had to hear through the grapevine all their woes and remorse over buying a slightly used, American-made vehicle. Coming back from college, I gave up the sporty red Camry (with its spoiler and stick shift), to take under my wing the now-aging Bullet. My parents had moved on, and so it was left to me to coax out of her whatever love and loyalty was left. I know she tried…

I faced mockery for my “soccer mom van,” but I didn’t care. I was towed twice (praise AAA) in a month, but I forgave her because I wanted to believe she was still trying. The belt squeaked (even after being replaced twice) and the engine chunked, but I knew her heart was in the right place. When the temperature gauge climbed and smoke started oozing out of the hood, I would pull off the road and pray with her. I even enlisted one of my mechanic friends to help with a desperate surgery on her electric fans. A little duct tape, and she managed to hold it together a little longer…

Her last great service to me was to help me move all of my possessions up to Indianapolis. Her willingness to help showed me at last that all of my care and dedication, all of my hanging in there with her when everyone else told me to give up, had been worth it. She made it.

I decided to drive her back down here for Christmas, because I knew she was reaching her last days (also because my brother needed a ride and I decided that the recommended $1,200 of repairs were NOT going into a ten-year-old minivan that was in its death throws anyway). It took all of her strength to get home but she did it. We lost a wiper blade but she pushed on. The windshield washer fluid stopped spraying but she charged blindly forward. As the brakes began to show less response, I knew it was only because the Bullet couldn’t stand to be slowed. By the time we got to Florida, even the AC had stopped working, but the Golden Bullet would not be stopped.

We made it home, and yesterday we took the Bullet to the Ford dealership, where she did us one last service. She traded herself in so that I could keep driving. She still looked beautiful, and she managed by some miracle to convince the trade-in guy that she was worth twice as much as I ever expected to get for her. You done me proud, Golden Bullet.

I have a shiny new red Focus to drive now, with a stick shift and an auxiliary plug so that I can actually listen to my iPod. It’s cute and compact, clean and fuel-efficient. But the Golden Bullet will never be forgotten.

No. DEFINITELY not.

She’s been, er, unforgettable...