So, Esmeralda got totaled yesterday in a four-car pileup caused by a $*&! idiot who decided to pull out from STOPPED TRAFFIC in the exit lane directly into traffic that must have been moving at 30-40+ mph. The car that was about to hit the idiot tried to dodge into the second lane over, hit another car, sent that car spinning into the 3rd lane (where I was), where a third car slammed on its brakes and hit the spinning car. I slammed on my brakes but nonetheless hit the third car. It looks like the transmission got pushed back against the body, there was radiator fluid and oil dripping, and I think it can be safely said that my poor darling is DOA.
The idiot, needless to say, went on driving happily down the freeway, leaving the carnage behind.
The good news is that everyone walked away from the accident, except for one woman who was taken away on a stretcher (but I saw her standing around talking to the cops after the accident, so I think that was purely precautionary). I got a few bruises on my arms from the airbag (thank you Esmeralda) but am otherwise fine, not even sore. Esmeralda, of course, is not nearly so fine. *snif*
Thus, “Requiem for a Truck”.
You were the first car I ever bought.
I remember you, new and shiny, on the dealer’s lot. You had ten miles on your odometer. I fell in love.
I washed and waxed you every week, with my own hands.
You hauled the fruits of my garden, and compost to enrich it.
Three hundred pounds of tomatoes, huge garbage bags of green beans, compost: a cubic yard at a time. It didn’t even come up to your gunwales.
You held my bicycle, countless times as I went on training rides. You never understood why I would take such a primitive means of transportation, when you were happy to carry me, but you carried it without complaint.
You hauled couches, garden tools, lumber. You took the entire load of PVC pipe for my makeshift irrigation system. You were a country girl at heart, but you tolerated the city for my sake, when I moved.
You came with me on AIDS Lifecycle 3, to drive me and my photographer to record the event.
We went to together, and , and the Antelope Valley Poppy Reserve.
You were headstrong, with manual steering, but I liked you that way. You loved big construction equipment, and trucks with giant tires, and anything sporty.
Eleven years and 165,000 miles. We had good times together.
Now you lie broken on the freeway. I wish I could bring you back. I wish that idiot hadn’t killed you.
You were a good truck, and you will be missed.
I am now in the market for a new car. It will, of course, never replace Esmeralda in my heart (she was a lovely little pickup and I adored her), but sadly, life goes on and I still need transport. I plan to spend all day Saturday and Sunday car shopping, and could use pointers.
I think I am looking for either another pickup or a hatchback, as I want something that can take Esmeralda-like loads (minus the compost) but maybe be a little less strong-minded (easier to parallel-park). Specifically eyeing the Prius, but looking into alternatives as well…anyway, if you have ideas, or pointers to resources on car-buying, let me know. I’m planning to move fast on this, as I can’t be without transport for long.