August 7, 2012

A Farewell to Luxury

Last week, I bid farewell to an old, loyal friend. No one died, and I didn't defriend him from Facebook over too many political comments. I sold him because I met someone better.

refusing to accept his real age
I sold my first and only car, known by all friends as The Luxury Sedan. It got its fancy name fittingly from its many luxurious features, including manual, roll-up windows and two doors for five seats. The Luxury Sedan was just too luxurious to tolerate electric locks, cruise control or a tachometer.

When I got the car at age 16, I always imagined being the only owner, driving it until it drove no more. But when my grandma recently moved to Florida, she decided not to drive anymore and offered me her car if I'd sell my old friend and give her the money. At first I refused. How could I sell my old, loyal friend for a younger, fancier friend? No way.

But when I planned to visit a friend who isn't a car, I borrowed grandma's car to make the drive a little easier. It is a Honda Civic just like The Luxury Sedan, but its automatic transmission and cruise control would make seven hours through the Florida boonies better.

The Luxury Sedan and Beyonce had to be separated at first.
I didn't expect to bond with this other car due to my loyalty to The Luxury Sedan and my touch of racism. I've never liked white cars. They're dirtier than other cars. They're too flamboyant. And they all look the same. But within the first quiet hour of the drive, we bonded over the cruise control and angelic speakers. Since grandma never turned on the radio or held a CD, Britney never sounded better.
That sealed the deal. As we chatted for hours on the open road, I had to keep Beyonce, who was named after the pop superstar.

I imagined saying goodbye to The Luxury Sedan would be hard - I envisioned tears and screams toward it, parents holding me back by the ankles, as my old friend chugged away with a "fuck you!" as it shifted into second. None of that happened other than the "fuck you!" but that was just a neighborhood toddler. The Luxury Sedan drove off into the sunset (we insisted the buyers came at 8 p.m.) leaving Beyonce alone in the driveway.

The Cackling Hen as a baby.
I realized that with Beyonce in my life, I'd already bid farewell mentally to The Luxury Sedan. But saying goodbye would not take away our 11-year friendship, our memories nor our photos together. Mental acceptance is more important than physical presence - it's how we cope with physical loss. Thankfully my mind was ready to cope; it's filled with plenty of other malfunctions to make me a basket case another day.

Jill visited for 100,000 miles.

Clinging to my first car wouldn't have kept me 16. I turned 27 this weekend regardless. While no one counts down the days until his or her 27th birthday, I wouldn't want to be 16 again either. (17, yes, if I turned into Zac Efron.) But we become attached to our cars like our friends in such a vast, mobile country where one needs a car to get just about anywhere easily. We Americans need our space, and because of it, need our cars. We take pride in reliable cars like those reliable friends, because those friends who break down all the time become pains in the ass.

Neither of these hens is Nikki. 
Many of my friends bonded with The Luxury Sedan over the years and said many things to him getting in and out. Some bitched about have to crawl into the back seat. (He'd reply, "Get your own car!") Some yelped if they hit their head on the roof as we went over a speed bump. (He'd reply, "Get your own car!") Some praised being in the VIP Lounge, the more common name for the back seat. And many yelled, "I already locked the door!" at me. But what really stuck with me was what my friend, Nikki, said as I picked her up once: "Every time I get in, it's like a party in your car." And while I may have a different car, I can still keep The Luxury Sedan's party going.

Loving Florida and college life

Everyone wanted to be The Luxury Sedan

Neither Beyonce nor The Luxury Sedan

Cruisin' on half.

So VIP... Lounge. 

Our wedding photo. Still accepting gifts. <3


  1. I'll never forgive you, Robbie. Beyoncé will never fill the gaping hole left in my heart by The Luxury Sedan.

  2. The Cackling Hen understands and is sorry that you feel that way, but can do absolutely nothing to help you.

  3. Now that I know Beyoncé has four doors, I may be able to find a little space in my heart for her white bumper.

  4. Hahahahahah yesssss I love this Robbie! It IS always a party and therefore the New theme sing should be "Party" by Beyonce yessss! Even though I miss the Truuu Lounge on Wheels this car will be a new, truuuu friend!

  5. Man, I had many a fine cackle in that luxury sedan. It will be missed.