All was in vain, of course, and in the end the only recourse was the needle and the tearful goodbye.
And here I am again, fighting against saying goodbye. Not to a beloved pet, but to something that's been with me almost as long: my Pathfinder. I got it Memorial Day weekend of 1994 with 17 miles on the odometer. Almost 150,000 miles later, the transmission is shot and it's time to let my beloved vehicle go. I've dealt with only having access to a few radio stations because there's no external antenna anymore. Having no horn (watch for finger). Only having 1 speaker, all the way in the back, except sometimes when I hit just the right bump and the other back speaker pops on for a little while. The remotes, long ago broken. No cup holders (in 1994, people weren't coffee addicts yet). The body rot that twice a year I carefully sand and paint with Rustoleum. None of those things are deal-breakers for me. But 3 days ago it wouldn't shift properly. I filled it with gas, that didn't help, 2 days ago brought it for an oil change and they said the transmission is shot. Three to seven thousand to fix it, and it's not worth it. The guy said I can drive it maybe another 1,000 miles before it won't shift at all.
The sadness in my heart really is equal to losing Nutter. I had them both 16 years.
And I've lost so much in the last 5 years. All of my birds (Gwennie, Goober, Prism, Zeebo, Onnie, Hogan & Lance). Two kitties (Zen & Nutter). Numerous jobs. My dad. And now my car.
Next week is my Tzolkin return, the first time in my life that my Gregorian birthday and my Mayan birthday line up since I was born. (Happens again in 40 or so years.) Can I think of this as a rebirth, a fresh start? New kitties, new car, maybe soon a new job? (no, nothing on the horizon)
12.19.17.8.17 10 Tzec 11 Caban
