Long May You Run (on three cylinders)

A couple of weeks ago our old car ended up at the wreckers. As a tree hugging greenie I'm surely not meant to care about a car. And as a rationalist, no doubt, I'm not supposed to hold the belief, like some sort of animist, that it had spirit. But the car had heart. And it loved empty gravel roads. It was slow (even my mother, who owned it before me, thought it gutless) but it fit my surfboards, and me when I needed to sleep in it. My wife and I are aiming for something much more fuel efficient in the next car (it wasn't a SUV but it was old). But none of this will change the fact that I miss the ol' car.

Anyhow, Neil Young does car eulogies much better than me.



Goodbye blue streak.