It's really hard to give up the things that I feel are mine. Not to be like that creature on the Lord of the Rings... what was his name? Yes, Gollum. (He's like an uglier, dumber version of Yoda isn't he?) Well, that is what I'm acting like today.
I'm upset that I'm selling my car. I guess I'm feeling possessive about my "stuff"? I'm feeling half pissed-off at the potential purchasers of my beloved, no PRECIOUS, dear old faithful car (DO notice my increased attachment to the car today) when they ask stupid questions like: "Does the car have a clean title?" or "Is the car mechanically sound?" (Yes, I do realize that these are perfectly reasonable questions. I do.) But I feel like responding to them, "Of course it has a clean title and is mechanically perfect, you idiot. It's a great car and I really don't want to give it to you dammit." But of course I refrain from my regular tendency for complete transparency and honesty about what is going on with me, and respond very politely to every stupid inquiry that I get through craigslist. "Dear xxx, Thank you for your inquiry about the Honda CRV via e-mail. Yes, the car is.... bla bla bla."
I know that this is the byproduct of some sort of emotional attachment that I have to "stuff" that I must overcome. I have to tell you that it's extremely uncomfortable and I'm agitated. Maybe I inherited this deep rooted attachment to "my stuff" from my parents? They grew up in an era in history when "things" were extremely scarce. "Mottainai" they would say. Translation is something like, "Don't throw things away if it's good enough for re-use." My parents TOTALLY used to have trouble throwing things away.
Some fun memories involving the CRV:
1) Dogs and Butter
One warm summer day several years ago (probably... 2005 or 2006?) I had gone grocery shopping and was unloading the car. As I was grabbing the grocery bags, I noticed that a box of butter fell out of one of the bags as I was wrestling with it. I thought nothing of this, and as my hands were full, I told myself that I'd get it later and closed the door. Well then I completely forgot about the box of butter until the next day, when I was getting ready to use the car again. I opened the car door from the right side of the vehicle, and let my two little dogs into the car. I then closed the door and was rounding the rear of the car when I noticed from the side of my eyes that the dogs were acting awfully animated inside the car. I opened the car door adjacent to the driver's seat to climb in, when I noticed my Min Pin Kuro devouring the remnants of ... you guessed it... the box of butter. It was a hot day. The box of butter had turned into liquid butter. The two dogs had discovered it and in the short space of time during their exciting discovery to when I rounded the rear of the car to climb into the driver's seat, the two dogs had wrestled with the box, and the box exploded with liquid butter and each dog took its reward to the far corners of the car, thereby splashing the stuff into the car's ventilation system as well as all over the dashboard and into the cloth upholstery. It was an awesome spectacle. I don't remember the moments that followed but I'm pretty sure I screamed some sort of foul word that I can't repeat here. The damage had been complete. My beloved pooches had had the best heart-clogging soup they would ever enjoy in their joint lives, and in the course of it, covering the car with liquid butter. Have I mentioned the fact that butter, when rotten, acts just like milk?
Several days of hot weather ensued and I found out fairly quickly that this was going to be a big big big big problem. For a while, I drove the car with the windows fully down. I had the car detailed several times before the smell was bearable. Then there was the problem of the rotten stuff stuck in the ventilation system. I think it took about three years and many cleanings for the smell to be slight enough that people entering my car wouldn't ask, "What is that smell?"
2) The Malfunctioning Clutch
And then there was the problem with the clutch. The car had a problem with the clutch for pretty much most of the time I'd owned the car. I think the problem originally started when I let my friend take turns driving the car with me, when we went up to a Cabin that I used to own in Placerville. He wasn't used to driving a clutch (manual) car, and so when he put the car in first gear, it made some nasty "ggg" sounds, which sounded as if the car would stall. I had been having problems since, and had been informed by a mechanic several years ago that the car was going to eventually need a new clutch. I no longer have the cabin in Placerville (I sold it before the housing market crashed in 2006) though I loved that Cabin - it was a really peaceful and beautiful cedar cabin. No nails had been used in its construction. Even though my friend had probably screwed up the clutch that weekend, the problems with the clutch always brought me back to a memory of a happy weekend visiting the cabin with a dear old friend.
3) Terror Struck kids
I also hold fondly my memory of me trying to teach my sister how to drive the darn car with her two kids, looking terror struck, strapped in child-safety seats in the back seat... these are all good memories that I have in connection to that CRV.
These and more memories, are associated with that car.
Letting Go
Tomorrow, I will have a ceremony.
I'll smudge her (the car) with sage to honor her, and release her, and to say to her:
"I no longer require your presence to celebrate your memories. Thank you for your service. Namaste."
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