After months of being cooped up in my parents' garage, my car finally managed to find a buyer.
Rather, I found it a buyer. Her name is Lauren and I think they're going to get along well. Lauren got in touch with me at the beginning of last week and it just so happened that I was flying to California this weekend for my Grandpa's birthday and my cousin's wedding. It was pretty easy to buy a cheap one-way plane ticket from San Francisco and the plans for my last hurrah with my car were set.
After a late night flight from the East Coast in which my bag managed to get lost, I set out early in the morning on the familiar route from San Diego to the Bay Area. As I drove up the 5, I reminisced about the great trips my little car had helped me get through. My drive down the coast last spring gave me the inspiration and the courage to make a major life change and when I lived in Oakland, that car was the only thing the kept me in touch with my friends in the Bay Area. I feel old saying it, but I've had that car for five years.
I made a pit stop at the Stanford campus where I visited Marie and Liz at work and got a razor blade from the Parking and Transportation Office to finally take of the years of stickers that had accumulated on the windshield. I met up with Lauren in Burlingame, we test drove the car, signed some documents and she dropped me off at the airport.
Just like that.
As she drove away with the car that I had laughed in, stressed in, rocked out in, prepared for tests in, and driven to some of the most significant moments of my life, I knew I would miss it, but I'm confident the new owner will take care of it. After all, she doesn't live in Oakland, so the car probably won't get broken into as much.