'Cars' was about Lightning McQueen learning to slow down and to enjoy life. The journey is the reward.
I awoke uneasily, pondering a question that sought no answer. Not rhetorical, in the most literal sense. Not a "soup" question, either. Just...wondering.
John Lasseter
I awoke uneasily, pondering a question that sought no answer. Not rhetorical, in the most literal sense. Not a "soup" question, either. Just...wondering.
We donated our faithful Isuzu Rodeo yesterday - signed over the title, filled out the forms and waited for the tow truck. My wife, who was the vehicle's primary driver during its heyday, had to remove the tags. She took photos as the thing was loaded onto the flatbed. When I got home, there was a parking space where the SUV had been.
We gave it to the March of Dimes, as thanks for the work that organization does to further the interests of preemies. Little Graham, the miracle boy, benefited from the research MoD funds, so it seemed the thing to do. We'd tried to sell the beast a few times, had offers that fell through (one coming as Pat removed the plates) but the money it brings will help figure out how to take sick little bundles weighing less than a glass of water and turn them into healthy boys and girls. That's okay with us.
The Rodeo had done the job, to the tune of one hundred eighty five thousand miles. We'd had it a short time before it got tagged in a parking lot, the asshole who did it driving away without a second thought. A hailstorm in South Dakota had it looking like a golf ball - having it repaired was interrupted by 9/11. Another hail storm beat it down again, but the stones hadn't melted at all when I needed its strength and 4X4 to drive one of the Porties to the vet for emergency treatment. It pulled our pop up all over the west. It became a "rental" when adult children visited from out of town. It broke down only once, something about a fuel pickup problem. Otherwise, it always got us there...and back again.
So I woke up this morning wondering...where had it landed yesterday? Transported, no doubt, to some tow yard, surrounded by wrecked cars, jumbled collections of parts and rust. I hope it finds a new home, that someone else will take it off road, to the store or on an adventure. And the money it brings?
Tell them Graham sends his regards.
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