For five years, we've braved the elements, traffic jams,
avoiding accidents, crazy drivers,
more than two hours every day.
I've marveled at your ability
to achieve 50 miles per gallon status,
your dislike of gas stations.
I'll remember that day,
way back when you were a wee Babe
when I tried (in vain) to protect your hood
from the hail stones that left, forever,
pock marks on your bright red hood.
I'll remember those icy nights on the Taconic
when you found the strength to climb past those cars
with spinning tires to take me safely home.
I'll remember that icy morning on the Saw Mill
when you found the power to self correct
as we did a 360 going down that icy hill
to take me safely to work.
I'll remember those sad trips,
when those I loved passed away.
I'll remember the happy trips
to see a new house, to shop for a special dress.
I'll miss your great cup holders,
your courageous entrances onto busy highways,
your bodacious display of your MPG.
I know that in spite of your German roots,
you were well named
after the Roald Dahl character who like you,
did things that just did not seem possible!
I wish I could keep you
for another 150,000 miles or more;
but at this point in my life,
I need creature comforts, great mileage,
a car with four new, round, smooth-riding-rims,
a car without a regularly-reappearing-check-engine-light.
I'll miss you, I really will.
I hope your retirement job,
whether it be in construction of with a college student,
is a good one with less stress,
that will allow you to go for a run each morning
as you have grown used to doing.
I'll regret you only got to the beach once,
but I hope that you have many adventures ahead.
Thank you for waking up in the dark,
taking me wherever I needed to go,
and most importantly for keeping me safe.
Fondly, like a great book,
with lingering memories,
I will remember you.