This is the one.Â
As my mom and I scanned the rows of used Volkswagen inventory at the dealership we visited in search of my perfect starter car, I couldn’t help but be drawn to the little white Jetta. Its sporty look and compact size were perfect for me, considering my subpar parking skills. Taking it for a test drive proved my intuition was correct; the car checked every box for an affordable price, with extra safety features that were perfect for an inexperienced driver. I’ll never forget opening the sunroof for the first time, letting the sun illuminate the interior as the breeze cooled me down.
It isn’t often that my mom gets to spoil my brother and I because she works extremely hard to give us the best educational opportunities and focuses less on physical items. I know that being able to purchase the Jetta for me was one of her biggest accomplishments, and she loved the car almost as much as I did. Whenever I was out of town, especially during my freshman year when I didn’t have parking at my dorm, she drove my car to run errands because it made her feel close to me, regardless of where I was.
My Jetta saw the good, the bad, and the ugly. It was there for me during the hard mornings in high school when I had to blast music just to stay awake, when I got accepted to my dream college, through all the late-night drives I used to calm my anxiety, and when I drove to college this year, excited that I’d have a mode of transportation to buy groceries and get to my off-campus internship. I even gave my car periodic life updates during breaks freshman year because I didn’t want it to miss out on any new developments.Â
My car never failed me, and I did my best to take good care of it. I never missed an oil change or tire rotation, and in return, no lights ever came up on my dashboard to warn me of underlying issues. I drove with confidence because I was never given any reason to doubt my driving skills or the mechanical functioning of my car. Completely out of my control, I was forced to learn the lesson that no good thing can last forever. No matter how careful I am with the material things I treasure most, external factors are always capable of ruining them.
So, as I watched my car fall victim to an engine fire, helpless as it went up in flames, I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of loss. The memories of trips to Cedar Point, late-night concerts, ice cream runs with my best friends, and lastly, the day I got to drive home with my Jetta, rushed through my head as I fought back tears. I knew it was totaled, but hearing it from the firefighter made my heart drop. Nothing could be done, but accepting reality did not come easily.
Looking back, I know the way I acted probably seemed slightly dramatic to everyone around me. However, people who have been around since my sixteenth birthday and watched me grow with my car were almost as heartbroken as I was. Anyone with a fun memory spent in the Jetta checked up on me and sent their condolences. One of my friends even checked to see if I could salvage the tiny turtles I stuck on my dashboard. I was happy to let her know that each one survived.
I’ve reached the acceptance stage of my automobile grief, and as I search for my next ride funded by the insurance check, I recognize the opportunity for more memories as I make a promise to myself to save the old ones. Looking for a new car as my 21st birthday passes feels symbolic of a new era beginning for me, and I want to welcome it with open arms. I am so thankful to have spent over four years with the perfect starter car, and as I grow, I realize the person I am mentally and emotionally could not be more different than who I was that day I took the Jetta for a test drive.Â
So, to the car that saw me cry more than my closest friends and family, thank you for everything.