Phillipe Posted January 6, 2008 Report Share Posted January 6, 2008 The End of A Useful LifeShe was faithful to the end.Her skin, blemished over the years from constant exposure to the elements, hung limply on her frame, a testament to a full and useful life. Her eyes were dimmed from too many late-night sessions on the road and her tread, once straight and sure, was now helter-skelter, her pigeon-toed gait a sure sign of advancing age.And yet…She always took me where I wanted to go, without complaint. Oh, sure, occasionally we would laugh at the shared joke of her “high-maintenance” lifestyle but, compared to many others I’d lived with, she was more than reasonable. Besides, it wasn’t her fault I’d met her so late in life…And it was also true that she was no raving beauty. Physical perfection wasn’t her strong point. Often when I was out with her, she’d seem to cringe when a beautiful, young and sexy thing would pass by us, but always I would pat her lovingly and whisper “Don’t worry, sweetheart – you have it where it matters”.In the summer she was always hot, in the winter freezing cold. Her circulatory system had evidently suffered some indignity or another before we’d met, and no matter what specialists we went to the cause could never be found. And still she went through life unafraid.This winter proved very hard for her. I tried everything I knew to make her comfortable, but I could see the damnable signs of her imminent end. Her reflexes were slowed; I heard creaks and groans when she moved; she couldn’t even wipe away her own tears anymore without my helping her, but it was help that I gave more than willingly.Yesterday I took her out for a pizza, her favorite food. We’d driven to most of the local pizzerias and sampled all the exotic pies offered, but she always preferred Little Caesars. Just another sign, I suppose, of her simple and frugal nature. We bought two of the Hot-‘n’-Ready Pepperoni pizzas and started back home, under most conditions a simple 15-minute drive. She hadn’t been complaining any more than normal so I had no inkling of what was about to happen.As we drove along Route 11, she suddenly began shivering. I tried to hold her, to reassure her that no matter what we’d pull through this, but it didn’t seem to help. I threw on the four-way flashers and pulled to the side of the road, trying to close my ears to the gut-wrenching moans that were issuing from her insides. But it was her time.I of course stayed with her as help was summoned, hoping against hope that she would be up and about as soon as the professionals took care of her. But they had been reciting the same mantra for the entire last year – “she doesn’t have long – go easy with her”. When help finally came and we rode together to the familiar small building with the flowerbeds in front and the gorgeous Japanese maple in the back (where she and I had spent many a happy occasion being reunited) she was oddly quiet, as if accepting her fate. The tears started welling-up in my eyes and I fought them back as best I could, but she knew and, I think, was happy in that knowledge.I said goodbye to her after the prognosis. We both knew it was her time, but I found it the most difficult thing I had ever done. Yes, she was downright decrepit and ugly; she wasn’t an athlete by any stretch of the imagination; she had a strong will and would often avoid any attempts at helping her, but always she was gentle with me and together we roamed the back roads and unusual destinations of Pennsylvania. “At least she met the kids” I tried consoling myself with, but it was far too little and far too late.It was actually a warm day for January yesterday… a day when the thick ice deposited from previous brutal snowstorms was melting, creating vast lakes of gloppy mud. Birds were actually finding their voices again and the sun, hidden for so long beneath angry gray clouds, actually dared to peek out and say hello.I said goodbye, and hoped that her spirit, if not some of her healthier internal parts, would go on to brighten other lives as she had mine. She was one in several million and I’ll never forget her, and I can only hope that she realized this in the end.I handed over the key to the scrap-yard owner, touched her dulled paint once last time and walked away, knowing I’d never have a van like that again. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Call me Flower Posted January 6, 2008 Report Share Posted January 6, 2008 May her spirit find peace. Hugs to you Phil! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
JimBob Posted January 6, 2008 Report Share Posted January 6, 2008 Hey Phillipe,You're a rat. You had my heart weeping for you.Now I owe you one. Peace & Love! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Fawzo Posted January 6, 2008 Report Share Posted January 6, 2008 Hey Phillipe,You're a rat. You had my heart weeping for you.Now I owe you one. Peace & Love!The tell was in the very beginning unless you believe His Majesty keeps his Harem topless and outdoors.She was faithful to the end.Her skin, blemished over the years from constant exposure to the elements Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Phillipe Posted January 6, 2008 Author Report Share Posted January 6, 2008 May her spirit find peace. Hugs to you Phil!Thank you, my Queen. Viewing is between 4:00 and 6:00pm tomorrow evening, in lieu of flowers please send 10W30 (Castrol) to: Fatty's Scrap and Recycling Yard1223 Dipstick DriveHead Gasket, PA 18708 You're a rat. You had my heart weeping for you. - that was the whole idea!The tell was in the very beginning unless you believe His Majesty keeps his Harem topless and outdoors.Well, in the summer, anyway... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bel Posted January 7, 2008 Report Share Posted January 7, 2008 That was lovely Darling. I'm sure wherever her spirit has gone she is looking upon you with a smile. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
SilverRose Posted January 7, 2008 Report Share Posted January 7, 2008 I was so tired when I read this earlier today that I didn't even figure it out at the end... "ohhhh, dear Phil lost someone..." heck, I was so wiped-out that I couldn't tell the difference between a cigarette pack and a Mike & Ike candy box, so obviously I couldn't figure out whether this was a "true story" or "fiction".. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Call me Flower Posted January 7, 2008 Report Share Posted January 7, 2008 Alas, I won't be able to make it to the viewing. But I will send good thoughts your way my King. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Qryos Posted January 7, 2008 Report Share Posted January 7, 2008 ~ I've moarned vehicles. That '57 Chevy I lived in & that took me to a new life.That '74 Dodge that 'The Good Guys' killed by destroying the entire electical harness {*grrr!*}... Memories are created & imprinted in places. Sometimes those places are vehicular.I still have dreams of the house I lived in til 3; of my Kindergarten yard; of the house I grew up in.What, no one else imprinted strongly with places and/or things? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Phillipe Posted January 7, 2008 Author Report Share Posted January 7, 2008 What, no one else imprinted strongly with places and/or things?I've imprinted on my massage table... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Qryos Posted January 7, 2008 Report Share Posted January 7, 2008 ~ I'm sure you have! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Pegasuss Posted January 7, 2008 Report Share Posted January 7, 2008 The End of A Useful LifeJust wait until you retire, then you wont be talking about cars. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Phillipe Posted January 7, 2008 Author Report Share Posted January 7, 2008 Just wait until you retire, then you wont be talking about cars.I'd agree with you, but there's one little hitch - - I'll never retire. I'll either die first or just keep working. One of the nice little perks of being self-employed... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
SilverRose Posted January 7, 2008 Report Share Posted January 7, 2008 I'd agree with you, but there's one little hitch - - I'll never retire. I'll either die first or just keep working. One of the nice little perks of being self-employed...yep- in agreement with that!!!! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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