My mother bought a 1995 Toyota Tercel for my brother in 1997, when he was 16 years old, for $5000. He spent the next two years taking his teenage aggression out on poor Scooter before it was passed on to me in 1999. Since then, I experienced my first car accident, my first traffic tickets, my first parallel parking on a hill, my first a lot of things in that car. It's been through high school, college, and then some with me, and I just sold it for $900 (I would have gone as low as $500) to make room for the new love in my life: a 98 Corolla (another hand-me-down from my brother). I wasn't sad until I told my mom and she got a little teary-eyed and then I remembered that Scooter and I have been through a lot together, and here I am, dumping out his ashtray and pushing him off onto someone else. I gave him a pat and wished him luck, told the new owner that when the gas is on empty it still has another 1/8 of a tank (thanks, Scooter!), and waved goodbye.
Here's a better ode to Scooter, when I thought I had lost him unfairly.
Mario Batali looks like Comic Book Guy.
Here's to moving on.