Remembering When: Saying goodbye to an old friend
By Keith Schell
Just recently, I experienced a very sad day in my life. I had to say goodbye to an old friend.
I had to dispose of my car of many years.
Disposing of my old car was much more emotional than I thought it was going to be. I absolutely hated having to get rid of it, but it was something I knew had to be done. It was old and worn out and no longer safe to drive.
When the wrecker came to get my car, I couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness. As he hauled my old car away, the small amount of money he gave me for it was of little consolation. I couldn't help thinking, "After all those loyal and dedicated years of selfless service, how did I reward my dearest and most reliable automotive friend? I sent it to the crusher!" I felt like a bit of a rat for doing it, selling out my beloved old car for a few measly dollars. Not exactly thirty pieces of silver, but still, I knew it had to be done.
In certain parts of Japan, workers sometimes hold a small thanksgiving ceremony to honour old machines that are being retired and dismantled after many years of loyal service. It's called a kanshasai, a gratitude ceremony. The tradition is rooted in Shinto, which teaches that everything, even machines, has a spirit. The practice reflects the deep respect and appreciation the Japanese people have for machines that have served them well and made their lives better. Along with offerings of food or flowers, employees may bow, clap, pray, or offer words of respect or gratitude before dismantling the retired equipment that helped them be productive and earn a living. Not restricted to heavy industrial machinery, these ceremonies have even been performed by families for household items as mundane as Roomba vacuums.
In a way, this was how I felt about my old car. Not just a machine to me, it was an important part of my life for many years, safely and efficiently getting me where I needed to go. As much as I wanted to, I didn't say any goodbyes to my old car when the wrecker hooked up to it that day, because he would have thought I was nuts! But I did get sentimental as I watched my car of many years being hauled down the street, fading off into the distance and out of my life. That was a sad day for me.
I can already hear the women out there saying, "What the heck is this guy talking about? It's just a car." They will never understand. But most of the men out there will know exactly what I'm talking about. Men and their vehicles have a long and loving relationship together.
To most men, cars and trucks are not just inanimate objects that get you from point A to point B. They are life partners, true-blue friends you can count on, and an extension of the man you are, or the man you want to be.
As the saying goes, "A man's best friend is his dog." But that saying could be amended today to "A man's best friends are his dog and his vehicle."
Women gather to admire a newborn baby. Men gather to admire a brand-new vehicle. Women can hear their baby fuss from across the house. Men can hear a strange noise in their vehicle from across the yard. And each approaches the object of their concern with the same amount of compassion as the other.
Women do what they can for their child at home before finally deciding to take them to the doctor. Men do what they can for their vehicle at home before finally deciding to take it to the mechanic. Such is the relationship between a man and his vehicle.
Every vehicle a man ever owns occupies a special place in his heart. Unless it is a complete lemon, many men remember their past cars and trucks fondly, associating them with the major life events that happened in their vehicles along the way.
My old car was such a good and reliable friend. It will be missed.
Goodbye, my old friend. You will always have a special place in my heart. And to my new car, hello, my new friend. You are welcome and will be loved, but you will never take the place of my beloved old car, no matter how cool and fancy and shiny and new you may be. But someday, I know I'll feel the same way about you when the time comes, and I have to say goodbye again.
Funny how a pile of metal, rubber and bolts can hold so many memories, holiday trips home to see family, grocery runs, driving vacations, quiet moments of thinking behind the wheel, and the simple comfort of knowing it would always start when I needed it to.
Life moves on, of course, but some goodbyes always stay with you. My old friend may be gone now, but the many miles we shared together are still with me. And maybe that's the real gift a good vehicle gives you, not just the ride, but the memories that stay with you long after the motor goes silent.