Hundred dollah car.

Today, my old A8 found its proper new home.

Yesterday, I went to run an errand and decided to take Old Blue.  I got to the top of the driveway and suddenly an engine stumble.  I've been down this path a few times before.  I could say with certainty it was one of three $50 things to fix it.  I parked it, went inside for keys to another vehicle in the Toadroller stable, and told Mrs. Toadroller it was time.  

At the counter at Autozone on an unrelated oil purchase, I mentioned it to the clerk.  Said I should just let it go.  You know, $100 bucks.*  Kid working the next register perked up.  "$100 bucks?  Does it run?"  Yes, it even passed inspection.  It's no beauty queen.  He took my name.  Called later.  He and his buddies tune VWs and Audis.  "So you know what you're getting into then."

A month ago I was thinking up drafts of humorous "Thousand dollar car!" ads for Craigslist.  But second thoughts had me thinking $700.  Then $500.  Then $250.  It wasn't about the money.  Heck, it will cost more than that to register it.*  Maine's registration fees are a bit silly, based on a percentage of original retail price, so even at 21 years old, it cost me ~$300 for the year.

Fifteen and a half years and 194,000 miles ago I found her, shiny, five years old, and 73k miles on her.  $18,900 for a $65,000 luxury-sport sedan that still, in her bones, is more sophisticated, sporty, comfortable, and fun to drive than my much newer E- Mercedes.

An hour ago, I handed the kid the keys.  Showed him the power rear window screen.  Watched it float up and out of my driveway.*  I wouldn't be surprised to see it around town.  Twenty-year-olds without kids and with ambition and ingenuity can make magic happen.

So long, Old Blue.  I love you.  I promised myself I wouldn't cry.  But I can tear up a little, right?

* I don't know if you can tell, but I can.  I've been reading T.R. Pearson again.  It comes through in my writing style.