But it was time to say goodbye to the old girl.
You never forget your first car.
She was a 1993 Toyota Tercel and she was WONDERFUL. And for those that may not know of a Tercel, think of a Corolla but smaller. Like if there was this really pretty girl next door kind of girl, but she had a slightly older sister you knew was older but still looked the same age because she was smaller and could keep up with the rest of the crowd. So much so you didn't mind she still wore acid wash jeans up to her waist. Like that but a car.
Anyway my little Tercel is about as old as I am and now she's probably in the backyard of one of the douche salesmen I traded her in to getting the shit kicked out of her for fun. She's worth so much more. I drove through a flood with her and she survived. Drove to Bribie Island and back with a cracked radiator and survived! Egged, scratched, bumped, and not one, not two, but at least 13 attempted thefts along the window frames. She's a fighter.
Just look at that masterpiece of Japanese craftsmanship. They just don't make 'em like they used to.
Brisbane had a shit load of hail storms of this summer, one of which had stones ranging from golf to baseball sizes. They tore right through our window screens and left most unprotected cars unlucky enough to be left outside for those horrible 10 minutes with permanent acne scars.
But not the Tercel. Oh no. None of that flimsy fiberglass shit for her. I left my car, not only flush out in the storm with not even a tree for protection, but I had it parked in such a way on the hill that it was getting full hits in the face.
Not a scratch. Not. A. Scratch.
Sure that paint was already coming off the bonnet anyway but there was not one single chip, crack, or dent in the little monster and now I can only imagine she's a cube of crushed metal and shag carpet the size of a carton of beer.
Oh no, you never forget your first car. Especially when it features in the greatest Shakespearean teen drama of all time!