Today, I sold my car, my ’94 Ford Thunderbird, to some guys who buy junked vehicles. My father and I worked a lot on my car, due to the various problems that arose within her, I learned a great many things about vehicles, what to hear, what not to worry about, and especially, the penalties of negligence. Yet, due to my upmost best to try to maintain my car, who was named either T-Bird or Baby Girl, or lack thereof, she would break down, time and time again. Whenever she broke down a particular song started playing in my head, ‘This Love’ by Maroon 5.
This song symbolizes my love and hatred for my car. As much as I loved her, as she was my first car given to me by my brother who had crashed it, I hated her, as her breaking down caused a great many problems along with her V-8 engine eating away all of my money through gas constantly being burned by her. It even got to a point where my grades suffered somewhat due to her.
As much trouble, pain, and suffering she had caused me, without her, I wouldn’t have learned how to love to effectively learn how to work with my hands, the love and feel of an accomplishment done with my own hands. I wouldn’t have learned so many things, both mechanical as well as metaphorical. Heh, for example, I learned that if things are getting worse, I had better fix it before I miss the window of opportunity, and it turns into a full-blown disaster, for one. Not to mention that all of my fondest memories of spending time with my Father is waking up early on a Saturday or Sunday and loading up the van or Tahoe and driving to the Junkyard to satisfy the desires of my inner flame of taking things apart to get the chosen prize, which would be a part to replace one in my T-bird.
So how much was it all worth? Granted, I did get some money from it, yet, I believe that in the end, I’ve learned a lot from that car. She taught me through pain and suffering, yet through first-hand, my own hands, that I can adapt, that I can learn, that I can discover, that I can endure, that I can take a hit, that I can laugh in my darkest hours, in those moments when my hands are covered in oils, dirt, and a little blood, when I desired to be somewhere that is of great importance to me, such as school, home, or work, and yet I’d be in the middle of the three trying to find out what went wrong.
I will confess that there was only 1 occasion where I had lost my temper because of her, it was a brief moment. It was on my way to work, and the girl who I was going to take over, I had already owed her for being late several times before, and I was determined not to let it happen again, and wouldn’t you know it, a third of the way there, she dies, and I was late once more.
As are all firsts, some are merely the experience that we feel in order to become introduced into the world. Sometimes, that experience is good, sometimes it is bad, and we become who we are, choose whatever decisions, based on these initial experiences. So in the end, without this Experience, you would not have become who you are right now, at this very moment.