Memories on Wheels

There are a few facts that I feel obligated to start with, seeing they may seem incongruous with what I'm about to say. Bear with me. First, I am one of a rare, rare breed – an adult non-driver. No driver's license for me, but I am a seasoned passenger.

Second, I cognitively understand the need for change at times in one's life, even when I have trouble emotionally processing it. Okay, got that out of the way, so let's get on it with it.

We sold our old van the other day, and I cried.

Yes, tears were filling my eyes. Tears that I tried to keep hidden, because in my mind I knew it was just silly to be sad. Our nine year old van was on its last figurative leg. The amount of money that the mechanic quoted us for repairs just to get it back to safely functioning bordered on obscene, and I'm well aware of the history of repairs we've already funded.

I know how much we worked that van; through years of home renovation-fueled trips to The Home Depot, it has carted everything we could fit in it, literally including the kitchen sink.

Yes, I'd heard the various rattles and hums that had been gradually joining together lately. I guess I just considered it the soundtrack of our vehicular travels. (And let's face it, they were usually drowned out by one "Glee" CD or another.) I know that it would have been crazy to drop the money to have it fixed one more time.

While my mind understood all the rational arguments at play here, my heart was having a much harder time thinking clearly. I remember when this van was new to our tiny family of three. With our two-year old son's car seat in the middle row, it seemed like a limo's worth of seating was left, and that first trip to visit relatives a long car drive away didn't require me to go easy on the packing whatsoever. All that room!

This was the vehicle that I feared I'd muck up two separate times as we drove to the birth centers where our younger children would be born, the entire ride spent between alternating teeth clenching through contractions and fervent praying that my water would stay intact for the whole trip.

Sure, I may have cursed it a bump here or there when I was in the throes of labor, but it more than made up for it by transporting our newest family members safely home. All that room definitely came in handy as two more car seats were added to the mix, and long trips began to fill the van to capacity as the amount of stuff a family of five needs can often be amazing.

When we were in the final steps of the selling the old/buying the new (used) van the other day, I somewhat jokingly told the kids to say their goodbyes to the old van. I may have had a somewhat lighthearted tone to my voice, but there was still a part of me that felt it only appropriate that they would want to give a little farewell, for they must have their own unique memories, too. Memories of movies watched on Daddy's laptop during long trips to visit grandparents, or visions of rides home from triumphant baseball games.

Our oldest did his own overly dramatic goodbye, played up for the laughs, and our youngest had a goofy moment of his own that involved some silly talking to the van. Then there was our daughter. You can see her here trying to reach her arms around as much of the van's door as possible in an actual heartfelt embrace. Her eyes matched mine in more than just color that day.

It may have been no more than a combination of metal and plastic parts riding atop a set of rubber tires, and it may have simply transported us from point A to point B over the course of nine years. But that's the thing – memories happen when you go along for the ride.

Dawn may reside in Greenbelt in real life, but online she lives at her blog, my thoughts exactly, where she chatters on about her funny kids, her NPR obsession and plenty of other randomness. She can also be found at 5 Minutes for Books, reviewing everything from contemporary fiction to children's literature.