Jazzy
This morning, I completed my final commute in Jazzy, my ’96 VW GTI. This evening, my mother delivers to me her old car, a late 90s Audi A4, and tomorrow, I turn Jazzy over to the nice man who bought her from craigslist. As excited as I am to have a new car, one that is far nicer than Jazzy, I’m sad. A movie montage of the good times Jazzy and I have had is playing in my head.
I bought her in 1999, a couple of months after moving back to WA. She was way more car than I’d expected to get. She has air conditioning, a sunroof, the nice wheels. With help from my step-dad, I bought Jazzy outright and we’ve been happy together these past seven years.
I called her Jazzy because the license plate number had JZI in it. My friends called her “The Egg” because when you folded the back seats down, she turned into a cavernous sphere that allowed me to move furniture, boxes, huge amounts of camping gear, etc. I’ve moved in her more times than I care to remember. As an event producer, I used her to haul supplies, props, and boxes of books.
And today, I’m saying goodbye. It’s a good thing: she’s a kid car and I’m ready to be driving something more grown up. But I’ll miss her zippiness, her ability to get into pretty much ANY parking spot, and her near invisibility to State Troopers.
My new car, which Mom calls Pearl, is beautiful. It’s got heated seats, a six CD changer in the trunk, power windows, and little wipers on the headlights. It’s got all the cool stuff Jazzy does, and way way more. I’m stoked, seriously. But I’m also a little freaked out that in the space of a week, I’ve turned 30, apparently lost my ability to do shots of Jager, and now drive a frickin’ sedan.
I can only hope that the man who as of tomorrow will own Jazzy loves her as much as I have. I hope he’s nice to her and gently pats her steering wheel when she’s squeezed into a parking spot the size of a golf cart. I hope he changes her oil regularly. But mostly, I hope he isn’t buying her for scrap.
I know it’s dangerous to anthropomorphize your car, but I’ll be spending the rest of this morning reliving my good times with Jazzy while a Carpenters soundtrack plays in the background of my mind. Rainy days and Mondays….
January 11th, 2006 at 11:20 am
Ah, Jazzy–I barely knew ye.
Chin up, Girl. Remember the old proverb: if you love something, set it free. Um, except me, of course.
Wait, did I just quote Sting?
January 11th, 2006 at 1:14 pm
So long Jazzy, you were indeed shaped just like an egg.
January 11th, 2006 at 1:44 pm
As a fellow driver of a late 90s Audi A4, I implore you to repeat after me:
Said vehicle is not a sedan.
Said vehicle is not a sedan.
Said vehicle is not a sedan.
(P.S. I miraculously and rather inexplicably turned into a grown-up sometime in like the last few weeks, too. See my blog for written documentation to this effect.)
January 11th, 2006 at 5:32 pm
Smrtygrl has indeed become quite grown up and so has The Girl! Not that you weren’t both incredibly mature already, mind you.
This is the first I’ve heard of the Jazzy/Pearl exchange! I bid a fond farewell to Jazzy–she was eggishly perfect–and a warm welcome to Pearl. Having driven in Smrtygrl’s Audi on many, many occasions, I can confirm that it in no way feels like a Sedan some senior citizen would drive on the way to the early bird dinner special. It’s most fabulous and you will love it!
January 12th, 2006 at 4:17 pm
Pearl is not a sedan. She’s a sleek beauty with class and only one slight dent in her backside. I know you two will be really happy together.