Three months after our joyous union, we set out on our first adventure. It was a cold, December Tuesday and we were Boston bound. I had total confidence in you as we cut through Erie, PA and then traversed across the entire state of New York. I hated the cold and worried the weather would turn for the worst, but you cruised along and allowed me to enjoy the beauty of the snow covered hills. As the sun faded and the darkness crept in, we entered Massachusetts. Two hours later we arrived in Boston. We navigated its curving, cobblestone streets in the rain and darkness, but your beams lit the way. Then came a crucial moment where I asked you to stop on a dime and on a slick wet surface. You didn't question me and your reaction saved a jaywalker from severe injury. I gave you the next day off because you earned it. But 36 hours after we arrived in the city where the most famous tea party took place, I told you we had to go. Snow was lightly falling and the weather was miserable, but you didn't complain. You fired right up and took me safely back to the CLE.
As the Winter tolled on, you got me where I needed to go and took Winter's wrath like a champ. When Winter finally gave way to Spring, the month of May brought new adventure. We were Indianapolis bound to see one of the most famous and historic races in American history. The 99th running of the Indianapolis 500. It wasn't just you and me however. I brought a friend. Most would complain, but you didn't. You did your job and did it well, allowing us to arrive without a scratch. Your unselfishness allowed me and my friend to fulfill a bucket list item and make memories to last a lifetime.
Your age began to show during that year when your calm demure turned into a dull roar. I put up with it for a bit, but then your displeasure was voiced. I heard you loud and clear and took care of the one who takes care of me. I gave you a shiny new piece of hardware and your gentleness returned.
As the days rolled on and the seasons changed, you kept humming along. I gave you the necessary fixes to keep you happy. 2015 came and went without much fanfare, but when 2016 graced us with its presence, we were in for a whirlwind of adventure.
In April we drove through Indiana not stopping to admire the farmland and Illinois welcomed us with the dreaded Chicago traffic. The first 4.5 hours were smooth, but that last hour sitting in rush hour traffic and in the rain was a nightmare. You rolled with the punches and my slight mistreatment of your interior with my frustration and didn't complain once. You brought me safely to the hotel where you got the weekend off while I enjoyed witnessing my first wedding of the year as many more were to follow.
Then when May showed up, I asked you to be prepared for another Boston style trip in length. This time we were headed south on a nine hour adventure to North Carolina. We cruised through Ohio farmland until the West Virginia mountains waved hello. We curved and swerved out way through the majestic scenery until we found ourselves in Virginia. I blinked and suddenly the GPS let us know we had reached our last state. Nine hours later we had finally arrived safe and sound. I had a blast that weekend and when it was over, you were ready for the trip back. I pushed you at times because nine hours is long especially by oneself, but your tunes kept me company and you shaved an hour off our drive.
I came to you in June less than seven days later with hesitation. I had asked you to do something you hadn't done before in taking two long trips a month apart. Now I was asking you to do a third and on only six days rest. This time the destination was The Big Apple. My dream city to visit. And the trip was going to last for six days. The longest I had ever asked of you. You saw the longing look in my eyes laced with adventure. As tired as you may have been, and as arduous a trip this was going to be, you said yes. And I loved you for it. So I filled and packed you up and off we went. Once again we left Ohio and entered into Pennsylvania, but this time we were't breezing through, oh no. We were going the whole way across. Two lanes the whole way, hills as far as the eye could see, and lots of construction. One section lasted for 16 painstaking miles with an average speed of 30 mph. But you never moaned once. Eventually we made it through and New Jersey welcomed us with five lanes of road, beautiful rock wall barriers, and palm-like trees. NYC was close but, not quite in view. Then after five hours, I felt a change in you. I could sense your calm nature fading. You tried your best to keep together, but some things in such an age as yours are out of your control. The tranquility was shattered by a roar I had heard before. And I knew that roar was going to last until we could get back to Cleveland. I knew you were upset as you couldn't keep your peace. But you ran, and that's what mattered. Soon, the roar didn't bother me as the NYC skyline appeared in view. A dream of mine was coming true and you were making it possible. The joy was real, but the bliss was short lived as I now had to become aggressive as ever to navigate the chaos of Manhattan. I pushed you and you obliged. Finally, a little over seven hours later, I found a place to let you rest. We had made it. And I couldn't have been happier. Throughout those six days I navigated you around upper Manhattan, placing you in various locations that you would be safe and I wouldn't get fined. For six days I was living the dream and you held together. Then the fun ended and it was time to leave. So I fired you up, added two more friends and off we went. You still roared the whole way home, but that was no fault of your own. You got us back safe and sound and that's what mattered. Upon our return I took care of you for taking care of me and promised not to ask a trip like that of you for awhile.
August was an emotional moment for me as we decided to journey to our neighbor city of Pittsburgh to witness some good American baseball. Two hours both ways wasn't that long, but on the return trip I took in the moment as you reached a major milestone. I smiled in awe as you proudly displayed 200,000. I'd only been with you for 22,000 of those, but hey I was there when you hit that great achievement.
We've been through so much together. All those trips, three Cleveland winters, a blown tire on I-75 N in Michigan, torrential and blinding rain in Mount Pleasant, PA. You kept your cool when a Jeep nearly clipped us on a rainy night, when a civic wasn't paying attention and nearly ran us off the road at 70 mph, when countless buffoons made blatantly stupid errors, when honest folk made scary misjudgments, when I myself have put you in harms way a time or two, when a rogue, cylindrical piece of metal attacked us in East Cleveland, and so much more. But now age and wear has done you in and it's time to say goodbye. Your ailments have become too great and your repair needs too much to bear. I won't forget you as you will always be my first. What you did for me and those who tagged along, I can never thank you enough. It's been an amazing three years and 35,000 miles. Goodbye my old faithful friend.
P.S. Many posts ago, I mentioned I gave my car a name, but didn't reveal that name as it was personal to me. Well I felt now is the best time to share that name. I named her Elise. If you would like to know the reason behind it, ask me sometime.
