Old friend. New friend. 



I haven’t wrote in a while because, to be honest, I couldn’t find the words. Recently my car (my first car) finally gave way and the rust got the better of him. His name is Monty and for the last five years he has been my best friend. He was there for me when I needed him; when I was sad, angry or happy. Singing my heart out driving to Wasaga beach or balling my eyes out as I sit in my driveway, he was there. My grandma bought him in Alberta and drove him to Ontario when she came to live with my dad and I. That car drove her and my late aunt everywhere! When my grandma could no longer drive, she gave the car to my dad. My dad drove it for a few years before finally passing it on to me. He was really proud to be able to give the car to me, really proud. I was ecstatic to get my very own car! I’m also one of the most sentimental people in the world and it meant more to me that it was passed down through generations. 

So can you see why it is breaking my heart into pieces to have to say goodbye? I feel like that safety and comfort is gone. That the connection to my family that I feel each time I get into that car will be gone forever. This may seem silly to most but it’s how I feel. I know it’s just a thing, a piece of metal but to me it’s so much more. 

Since Monty is literally undrivable (I held out as long as I possibly could) I gave in and bought a brand new car. I feel safer then I did at the end with Monty and I know my dad would be just as proud that his little girl was able to do that for herself. I’m trying to be positive. But Monty is still in my driveway and once he gets carted off to the scrap yard I don’t know what will happen… That’s the truth. 

Sorry for the sad post but I had to get that out. 

Thank you.

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