Jewel

I took my car in to get an oil change today and found out her usable life is almost up. I avoid the car place because I know that one day they will tell me my car is in need of serious repair and give me a quote that is higher than the value of the car. That day was today. And I found myself strangely sad, not because of the major decisions and monetary obligations in my near future, but because of all my possessions, it is the one that means the most to me. I feel like we have a history and Jewel was an instrumental part of some very formative years.

Let me back up. Jewel is the name of my 1998 Jeep Grand Cherokee that has earned nearly 195,000 miles (mostly with me) in the past 10 years. More recently she has fondly been referred to as the spaceship because she sounds like she's taking off when she gets to speed. Originally she was my mom's new car, but when she got her 2001 Jeep I was given Jewel as I headed off to college. And as I said before, I think I'm so attached to her because of our long history together.

The first day she got home, I accidentally locked both sets of keys inside. She sat, locked, in our driveway for a few days as the dealership was in the twin cities. She was one of the first cars I had seen with the volume controls on the steering wheel and a built in CD player.

She took me to my senior prom, and I tried not to drive on gravel as we headed to the Dam Bar in Mitchell. My date played the Beatles on his guitar in the passenger's seat. I remember taking a picture of the mileage on the way home from the restaurant as it turned 77,777 miles. She took me to the senior keg against my parent's will and one night was the fastest car on the loop in Mason City, racing from stoplight to stoplight. She took me to many 4-H events and the state fair, learning her way around Des Moines and making many friends and memories on the way.

She was there for all of my speeding tickets and parking tickets. We have never gotten into an accident unless you count the one time Mom backed into us when I was a senior in high school. She only broke down on me once, close to college, and only had one flat tire, 2 blocks from campus. One time I abused her by running her out of gas and, thinking it was the battery, had her jumped three times in 10 blocks. She died across two lanes of traffic turning into the gas station. People helped me push her to the pump. I didn't run her low ever again. She has kept me safe for 10+ years. And I took care of her as well, replacing a fuel pump, a water pump, tires (at least twice), all breaks and pads. I can tell you when she feels or sounds different and which noises aren't anything to worry about.

She was there for my first boyfriend. And my last. She drove me to my one and only blind date, many unblind dates, and many girls nights. I drove her home after my first kiss and after breakups. She was there for my first Valentine's Day with a boyfriend, and I remember the snowstorm that night that she plowed safely through.

Though most of her miles were in the great state of Iowa, she ventured to Virginia (twice), the Twin cities, St. Louis, Kansas City... In KC we came across an unfinished on ramp--read, gravel--and forged it anyway. I remember the first cross-country trip to Virginia gas had just reached $2 for the first time since I started driving. I remember getting mad when I would fill up for $2.01 and 10 miles later there was $1.99. That summer she took me to the Atlantic Ocean, along the North Carolina coastline, and to a hospital where I volunteered and was touched by the children I worked with. She was there at the end of the summer when we lost one of those miraculous children and I cried as I drove back home. She drove me to many weddings, many get togethers with friends, many joyous occasions. She was also there as I said my final goodbyes to family members and friends.

I became skilled at putting all of my worldly belongings in the laid down seats. I moved into and out of 4 college dorm rooms, stowing my possessions in the back. She moved me into college, and 4 years later, moved me out. After graduation, she helped me move in and out of apartments and homes. When I came back from Hawaii, she was waiting to help me move once (er, twice) again. I found the best way to pack it all in...

I think there's a freedom in a car, especially as a teenager and young adult. There's something seemingly limitless of being able to go wherever you want when you hop in the car with the windows rolled down, wind blowing through your hair, music blaring, singing at the top of your lungs. There's a euphoria to driving on a sunny summer day with no where in particular to go. I love driving when there's all the time in the world to enjoy it. Jewel and I explored the less traveled path, leading us to the unplanned road, neighborhood, garage sale, and once a rodeo. I would play driving games with myself to keep it interesting; one ride home from college I turned at every paved road I came to that went north or west, working my way home in a zig zag fashion. Time was no object, just us and the road and whatever adventure was out there for us. If you never go off the main road, how will you know what you're missing? And I remember all of those nights we would drive to a field driveway and lay on the hood, gazing at the stars, talking, thinking of how small we are and where we fit in this giant puzzle. The scratches from our shoes are still on the hood (which quickly prompted the "no shoes on the hood" rule).

Maybe it's silly for me to feel this way about a car, but I think it's part of how I feel in the car and part how I feel about the memories I have attached to it. Maybe it's the time of my life we shared together, so fragile and uncertain. I'm a little afraid that a new car won't have those memories, that life will go less noticed than before. That my business and life will get in the way of enjoying all the little things I shared with this car in the past 10 years. I hope I don't forget to stop and enjoy the feeling of driving with the windows down, singing. I hope I don't always take the most direct route. I hope I share those evenings with those I love, pondering life under the stars.

I hope you all know exactly what I'm talking about.