This time the good-bye is not one of living breathing sorts, but rather it is a farewell to our 1993 Previa mini-van. As of today, I am officially no longer a mini-van mom. It is with mixed emotions that I say this farewell for indeed it feels much more like the end of an era rather than the sale of a car.
I can still picture the day nearly 15 years ago when my husband called and asked me to come test drive this gem he had just found. Things moved pretty quickly and before I knew it, he had returned to work and I was left at the car dealership with two very small children (aged 4 and one.) The three of us were there for what seemed like hours, but at the end of the day I was no longer a BMW-driving yuppie and had officially joined the ranks of Soccer moms everywhere (even though soccer would not be introduced into our lives for four more years.)
It feels funny to have this little tug pulling at my heart as I sit waiting for the new owner to come pick up the car. As I wait, my life (or at least the last 15 years) seems to flash before my eyes. I can feel the hundreds of trips between our home and the little Christian elementary school both kids attended. My daughter and I picked Curry up in this van. His favorite spot became the space between the driver and passenger seats where he regally held court as we went through many a drive through and he was lavished with doggie treats while the kids received candy or stickers. I see the road trips we took--traveling as far as Penticton, Canada for the Canadian Ironman and south to California for Christmas with dear friends.
My kids grew up in that car and I guess I probably did too. We considered saving it for our son to drive, but the thought of a teenage boy with all that space stirs up memories of my own youth and I shudder at the thought. We have considered selling the car for more than a year now. In the back of my mind, it seemed in many ways to be Curry’s car. He never liked sedans or smaller vehicles until he experienced the joy of my VW convertible. In later years he could not climb into taller cars and so we kind of kept the van around—just in case…
So, 'just in case' has come and gone. It is time to say good-bye. Good-bye to the van. Good-bye to an era. That car is full of amazing memories and I hope many more will be accumulated as I turn it over to its new owner—a mom with three small children. Her brother knocked on our door last night inquiring if we would like to sell it. Evidently his sister’s car (another Previa) had been totaled by a drunk driver and they have little money to spare. We had a family conference to decide if we would sell it for less than ½ the blue book value to a man who was potentially scamming us. My daughter put things in a way only a teenager can when she said, “Really…who would try to scam us for that piece of you know what!?!??!?” My thought was that even if it was a scam, the man appeared to be less fortunate than we and my hope is that the new/old car would somehow benefit him and his family. (Gee, that sounds more magnanimous than I really feel! ☺) It also feels like time to say good-bye. Time to do a little de-cluttering as Sunrise Sister has recently reminded us.
Well...the car may be gone and the street therefore a little less cluttered, but the memories will last a lifetime (especially since I decided to write a few of them down ☺.)