Good-bye Ford Aspire ’97!

Good-bye Ford Aspire ’97!

By Emma Johnson

 

It shouldn’t be so sad.

My car was 16 years old

and kept breaking down.

No shock absorbers.

A/C doesn’t work.

Brakes must be applied way in advance.

A dent from a car in the movie theatre parking-lot.

Rust on shiny turquois where I side-scraped the car

when I pulled up too close to a gas-pump.

Radio volume won’t budge so it’s always on softly.

You can tell it’s NPR by the cadence,

not because you understand the words.

I’m not informed, but it’s comforting.

I referred to you as a piece of crap,

but I always patted the dashboard,

“Just kidding! Good car!”

You brought me so many places.

I learned to drive.

I moved to college.

I drove halfway across the U.S.

You seemed so lonely as I watched the tow-truck pull you away.

I feel silly being teary-eyed.

But it seems so cold to scavenge you for parts

and throw away the rest.

A chapter closed if measured in cars.